Power Man & Iron Fist
by David Golightly
Summary: A follow-up to my Heroes For Hire stories! Check out Luke Cage & Danny Rand as they square off against John Aman, Batroc, Dreadknight, and many more shadowy villains! This is part of our shared fanfic universe at Marvel 2000.
1. Balance - Part One

**POWER MAN & IRON FIST**

" **Balance – Part One"**

 **Written by D. Golightly**

"Sweet Christmas!"

A searing beam of yellow and white energy slammed into the sidewalk, cutting through the flat concrete like it was nothing more than tin foil. The blast quickly dissipated, revealing a scorched and blackened crater where a man had just been standing.

That man, a bulky black hero that went by the moniker of Luke Cage, ground his teeth in frustration. He wasn't used to dodging attacks like that. His steel-hard skin usually put the kibosh on whatever was trying to do him harm. His shredded shirt and scarred chest, however, was evidence that his limited invulnerability was not going to be enough this time around.

He ran his hand over his bald head, now cleanly shaven from how he usually styled it. He had undergone many changes in the last few months, deciding that a new look would help give him a fresh start. Not that his new appearance was deceiving the person trying to kill him at the moment.

"With a name like the Eel," Cage said, "I kind of figured on you being more of a pushover. Least that's how I remember you."

The colorful Eel growled as he unleashed another pinpointed electrical discharge at the original hired hero. The shocking power, easily double what the villain had once been capable of, burned down a street lamp, turning it into melted slag in seconds.

His suit, the source of his powerful electrical blasts, must have been modified somehow. The world was growing increasingly more chaotic, with the bad guys getting better and better tech. It used to be that Cage could shrug off this joke of a villain and walk right through his attacks without a second thought. Now he needed to think at least three or four thoughts ahead or else he would be fried on the spot.

Chicago in general had become a permanent danger zone. It was both good and bad for Cage. Good because it meant an increase in his business ventures and more revenue. Bad because he was getting worn down pretty thin, very quickly.

The Eel had broken into a pharmaceutical warehouse, which Cage had been hired to guard. This was one of his retainer clients, which meant that when the executives had received a bold threat from a disgruntled employee, he had been called into play. The threat turned out to be very real, with the employee hiring a known mercenary to burn the storage facility and destroy every trace of the experimental drug housed inside.

Another blast, forcing Cage to duck behind the sign by the entrance to the facility. The fight had started before the Eel had managed to get inside the building, and Cage had quickly angled him out toward the street in an attempt to put a little distance between the Eel and his target.

Cage ripped the remains of his tattered shirt off his burly chest and said, "Enough is enough. This fool is toast."

He reached down, picked up a 200 lbs manhole cover with ease from where it was embedded in the street, and cracked his neck. Bending his legs slightly, Luke Cage quickly shot up into the air, his amazing strength catapulting him skyward. The Eel fired random arcs of searing electricity wildly, taken aback at the now high-flying Luke Cage. Cage whipped his arm around as he descended, hurling the manhole cover at the villain.

The plate slammed into his stomach, forcing the Eel to double over and be punched down into the ground. The small lawn outside the warehouse was now a burnt patchwork of grass and dirt. The Eel lay unconscious in the center of the war zone, smoke billowing up from his overcharged costume.

Cage landed a few yards away from him, content that the bad guy was taken care of and that he had earned another paycheck. The damage to the building wasn't that horrible, considering that the Eel's overall goal was to burn every trace of the contents inside. In fact, the only real loss was Cage's shirt, which had been one of his favorites.

Sirens in the distance. He would have some explaining to do to the cops, and being an ex-con he really hated having that conversation over and over again. Danny was always better at dealing with the police.

But he had no clue where Danny Rand even was these days. His best friend had left Chicago after saving his life and he hadn't heard from him since. That was six months ago.

It was a question that nagged at Luke Cage virtually every day: Where was Danny Rand?

* * *

Danny hated the swamp. It was cold, dark, and wet. Creatures slithered by that he could not directly account for other than a flicker in the stream near his feet. It was irritating that he had to be here. He would much rather by in the arms of Misty Knight.

He quickly shook his head. No, Misty wouldn't have anything to do with him these days. Not after the mess that boiled over while he was still with the Heroes For Hire. He suddenly missed his friends, but knew that he had to be here, in this wretched place, if he wanted to save his life.

Vines, moss, and exotic flowers coated the landscape. He had long ago stopped trying to force his way through the thick foliage, instead opting to just pass through whatever way he could. He ducked underneath a thick tree branch that was covered in a slimy, greenish goo, wishing that he could be anywhere else.

But this is where Dr. Stephan Strange had instructed him to go. The Sorcerer Supreme, while an expert in all things magical, mystical, and mythical, had been unable to determine what was wrong with his chi. Ever since he had bonded with the fantastic Blade of the Dragon from K'un Lun his powers had been out of whack.*

 _* [Danny retrieved the sword from Chiantang's stronghold in H4H #10, and then sought Dr. Strange's help at the end of MAX 2000 #25, which you can read at our shared fanfic site, Marvel 2000 - marvel2k DOT weebly Dot Com!]_

The good doctor had coldly informed him that if he did not find a balance to restore his chi, or somehow separate himself from the sword, that it would eat away at his very spirit. The sword had been developed in K'un Lun to aid in the Iron Fist technique, however the masters that had designed the sword never mastered it. It was considered too powerful to wield, and Danny could feel it pulling at his chi every day.

So, even though Strange couldn't help him, he had directed him to a swamp in the pits of the everglades. He was told that he balance he sought could be found in this bizarre place. Although, so far the only things Danny had found were bugs. Lots of bugs.

He wore a hiking backpack, jeans, and a long sleeve t-shirt that had done little to protect his arms. His green and yellow costume was folded into the pack, along with supplies for the journey. At his side clung a machete, although it didn't help as much as he thought it would when making the trek through the dense jungle-life swamp.

"This is pointless," he muttered. "I don't even know where the hell I'm going."

Even though he was lost, and losing hope quickly, he couldn't deny that there was something about this place that pulled at him. He trusted Strange's judgment, even if the elder magician was a little secretive at times.

The sun was lowering, stealing away what little light was available to navigate by. Danny hopped onto a tree root that was as wide as a Buick, getting his soggy feet out of the marshy terrain. He slipped off his pack and prepared to make camp. He had been wandering for three days and knew better than to try and travel after the sun went down.

He yanked a protein bar out of the pack and began to gnaw on it as the last rays of the glistening sun pilfered his retinas. He turned away to shield his eyes, but after a moment, realized that the sun had gone down but the glowing was still trying to blind him.

He turned to see varying shades of color from behind the tree line, mixing and dancing like an orchestra of light. The protein bar hung in his mouth as he slowly stood up, transfixed by the rainbow medley.

A burst of lightning shot through the swamp, jutting back and forth between the hanging vines, careful not to touch any of the plant life. It stabbed into Danny's right forearm, slicing through his skin and latching onto his body and soul.

He screamed, and then vanished. The protein bar fell into the murky swamp, disappearing beneath the dark waters.

From the shadows, a moss-covered behemoth watched silently. As Danny Rand was removed from this world, the intense light display quickly died down. Satisfied that the Nexus of Realities was safe, the monster turned away to stalk back through the swamp once more.

* * *

"I just don't think it's fiscally responsible."

Luke Cage ground his teeth before saying, "So, the H4H is finished?"

"If we're being honest with ourselves, Luke," the half-dead cyborg on the screen replied, "the H4H has been finished since Danny left. Our headquarters was obliterated by Anarchy, our team pretty much disbanded, and our finances in the toilet. You've been hanging on by a thread for the last six months."

As much as it pained him to admit it, Deathlok was right. Heroes For Hire was barely functioning as it was. The only clients that Luke really had anymore were ones that held him on retainer. While it paid his rent, he wasn't able to draw in more business. Danny had always handled that part. The cash flow that H4H did have wasn't enough to rebuild Deathlok's facility, which had been their headquarters before an overzealous buffoon had tried to kill them.*

 _* [That would be the former lackey turned supervillain, Anarchy, from MAX 2000 #25, also readable at our site!]_

"I just can't believe you're giving up," Luke said. "You pulled me back into this gig in the first place."

"I reformed the Heroes For Hire, yes," Deathlok replied. "But the destruction of my facility made me realize that I lost sight of my original goal. I'm sorry, Luke, but I don't think that the H4H is an investment I can make again. I'm here for support if you need it, but I'm moving on to Madripoor."

"That snake pit? What's down there other than thugs, thieves, and killers?"

"Some of the world's most profitable tech companies, including Stark's subsidiary hubs. If anyone can get me looking normal again—"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Look. No hard feelings, okay?"

Deathlok smiled awkwardly, his necrotic tissue making it difficult for his facial features to show any real type of emotion. "I'm serious about the support. If you need me, I'm just a phone call away."

Luke nodded and cut the connection without another word. He couldn't really blame the cyborg. While Luke was generating enough income to more than sustain himself, their contracts simply weren't big enough to establish their operations like before. Since Luke was in the field by himself, he was spread too thin to pick up more business anyway.

He thought about calling Colleen, or maybe Misty. He needed some friends right now, but he would have to settle for a beer instead. Alone in his apartment in downtown Chicago, Luke Cage wondered if maybe he should move on, too. He could just throw a bag in his Dodge Charger, hit the road, and never look back. He'd done it before. Why not see where the wind took him again?

He stepped out onto his small balcony and raised the bottle of cold beer to his mouth. He stopped short, noticing a small red dot on the brown glass.

A nearly silent shot fired and the bottle exploded.

"Son of a—"

The sliding glass door behind him shattered as more gunshots pilfered the balcony. The bullets bounced harmlessly off of his body, but he was more aggravated that someone would have the guts to attack him where he lived.

While still being peppered by gunfire, Luke scanned the rooftops of the buildings across the street. He spotted the muzzle flash from the sniper, even though the person was using a silencer. He took a few steps backward into his apartment, and then ran forward, launching himself across the street.

He landed with a crunch and a wordless battle cry onto the stone pebble covered roof of the adjacent apartment building. The sniper, dressed in a black bodysuit complete with hood and goggles to conceal his identity, dropped his rifle and extracted something small and round from his web-gear. It was long, like the handle of a sword, but without the extending blade.

The sniper depressed a button and a string of red energy erupted from the handle. "Laser whip?" Cage inquired, a little impressed. "Alright, that's pretty awesome. Not going to do you any good, though."

He lunged forward as the sniper snapped the whip at him, missing his face by mere inches. Cage caught him around the waist, tackling him like only a pro-football player could. He drove the assassin into the side of an access doorway, knocking the wind out of him.

"Now you feel like doing a little explaining?" Cage asked as he drove his forearm into the sniper's throat, pinning him.

Another red energy whip slung around Cage's neck, cutting off his air supply. He release the sniper, pulling at the stinging laser cord around his throat. He stumbled backward, pulled by a second assassin dressed in the same black bodysuit.

A third and fourth one stepped out from the shadows of the rooftop, each wielding a fierce set of energy weapons. They held back, ready to join in should Cage break free. But he couldn't. Despite his impressive strength and resilience, something was making him weaker. He pulled at the whip and fought the desire to just give in and pass out.

"I expect by now that you're experiencing the draining effects of the psycho-whips," a new voice said. Cage watched as the sniper stood up beside a man in a black trench coat that seemed to simply melt out of the darkness. "These laser whips, as you call them, are so much more than what they appear. They are psionic extensions of the user's mental abilities. In the right hands, they become deadly weapons that siphon off an opponent's ability to fight back."

Cage was indeed fighting to stay upright. He fell to his knees, cursing in his mind. He tried to get back up, ordering his legs to obey him, but they simply wouldn't listen to him. He was at the mercy of this newcomer.

He had blonde hair, a chiseled jaw, and blue eyes. Beneath his black coat was an expensive tailored suit that easily cost a month's rent. There was a serious intent behind his gaze, marking him as a man that got what he wanted, accepting no substitutes or excuses.

"I suppose you're wondering who I am," the blonde man said. "My name is Agent Travers. I've been sent by the Commission on Superhuman Activities to recruit you, Mr. Cage."

The whip didn't loosen as the other three assassins stepped in between the well-dressed man and the subdued Cage. Agent Travers lit a cigarette, pulled a drag, and smiled as he exhaled. He was happy content to stand behind the protection of his killers, although age could tell that this was a man that didn't mind getting his hands dirty if the need arose.

"If you can still hear me, and bravo for not lapsing into a coma as people sometimes do in your current situation, then you're probably thinking that this is a rather odd way of recruiting someone. Well, the particular job that I need you for is one that you might not be interested in accepting without a little coercion."

Travers nodded to one of the assassins, who stepped forward with a red energy knife pointed at Cage. The killer stabbed Luke between the eyes, driving the energy knife directly into the hero's brain. Luke wanted to scream, but his throat closed up from the pain.

Images flooded his mind, overtaking his thoughts. He saw a brownstone in New York City, then a swamp somewhere in the everglades. At the center of both locations was a familiar man wearing a green and yellow uniform: Danny Rand, the Iron Fist.

"It hurts, I know," Travers said. He tossed his cigarette away carelessly onto the rooftop. "I designed it to be painful. I find that pain is a great motivator."

He nodded and the assassin removed the psychic energy blade from Cage's forehead. Cage slumped forward, breathing steadily, even though a dribble of drool slipped out from between his lips. The whip slipped off of his neck and the assassins dissipated into the darkness.

Travers stepped close to Cage, leaning down to his level. "Find Danny Rand," the agent said. "You know him best. I've downloaded all the information we have on his current whereabouts into your memory. If anyone can locate him, it should be you. Find Danny Rand and kill him."

Everything went black.

Luke stepped back out onto his balcony, a cold beer in hand. He thought about calling Colleen, or Misty, but decided against it. He noticed a wet spot on the balcony, but figured that his upstairs neighbor must have been watering his plants again.

He took a long drink from the bottle, staring at the rooftop across the street. For some reason he couldn't pull his eyes off of the empty roof, like he was trying to remember something important about it.

Luke chugged the rest of the beer and went back inside to pack. Chicago was a long way from the Florida everglades. He had never been there before, and didn't have a clue about what he should bring, but he didn't much care. All he knew was that was hopping a flight tomorrow to go track down his best friend that had left him without a word six months ago.

"I'm coming for you, Danny," Luke said.

TO BE CONTINUED!


	2. Balance - Part Two

**POWER MAN & IRON FIST**

" **Balance – Part Two"**

 **Written by D. Golightly**

"Okay…this is new."

Danny Rand stood up on wobbly legs. Moments ago he had been wading through a murky swamp in the everglades of Florida, searching for hope. On the advice of Dr. Stephan Strange, Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, he had been wandering aimlessly for days. When he had inquired about some type of direction for his answers, the good doctor had only told him that the answers would instead seek him out.

After being pulled through some type of nexus at the heart of the swamp Danny had found himself floating in the ether. He stood on nothingness, which should have been impossible, and yet there he was. There was a definite weight to the landscape, although his eyes were telling him that he was in a total vacuum of darkness.

His right arm was burning, and quickly growing numb. He rubbed at it absentmindedly, but was distracted when a booming voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Daniel Rand. There is a blight upon your soul."

Danny whirled, ready to spring into action should the need arise. However, the disembodied voice came from nowhere, and everywhere at once. He squinted, but there was nothing in the distance that could be used as a frame of reference either.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"A comrade in arms," the voice replied. "Of sorts. We have much in common, Iron Fist. Perhaps if I stood revealed in a more corporal sense you would feel at ease."

A green mist billowed from the darkness, condensing right in front of Danny. The smoke thickened and formed into a humanoid figure, cloaked in a green shroud that blanketed the form, hiding it mostly from view. Whoever this person was, Danny could instantly sense a powerful chi within him.

He couldn't help but wonder if this was the person he was supposed to be looking for.

"Nice party trick," Danny said. He rubbed at his arm again. "You do kids' parties?"

"Your mockery is purely a function of your naivety," the shrouded figure said. "You would do well to silence that juvenile tongue. You have much to learn, Daniel Rand."

"I've always been a great student," Iron Fist replied. "When does class begin?"

"Immediately."

The figure moved with swift speed that defied his garments. The heavy shroud should have muffled his quickness, but it didn't seem to bother him at all. He lashed forward, flinging his cloak at Danny to feign a strike on his left side. Taken by surprise, Danny moved just a second too slow to avoid the hit coming from the right.

Green smoke enveloped him as the fight progressed. Even though he was standing on nothing, somehow hovering in dead space, he was still able to fight back. Or, at least fight back as much as he had the ability to. This shrouded figure was fast, and his attacks were issued with pinpoint accuracy. Iron Fist was forced to focus on each individual block he put up instead of allowing his body to naturally defend itself as his training had always taken control.

Iron Fist ducked under another sweep of the cloak, jutting his palm up into the man's face. It was his first direct hit against his attacker, and it was strong enough to knock the hood off of his head.

The fight stopped. The figure stepped back, his face completely devoid of expression. Danny was breathing heavily, but the other man seemed to not even breathe at all. He maintained his stance, ready to go another round if the need arose.

"You look familiar," Danny said.

"You have seen me in your subconscious, I am sure," he said. "My name is John Aman, the Prince of Orphans. I helped create the blade now bonded to your chi, and unless you heed my warning it will surely destroy you."

Danny's forearm was still pounding with pain. He glanced at his own arm. He knew that his inner energy had been out of whack since he had taken the sword and melded it with the Iron Fist power. Dr. Strange had tried to separate the sword with no degree of success. He figured the sword was an inconvenience, but could it actually kill him?

He concentrated on his chi, summoning the power of the Iron Fist technique. The yellow energy bubbled to life from beneath his skin, surrounding his forearm and hand in a powerful glow. A sword flashed into existence, gripped in his hand: the Blade of the Dragon.

"I'm listening," Danny said.

* * *

"This is the stupidest damn thing I've ever done," Luke Cage muttered.

He sloshed through the abysmal swamp, wishing that he had worn thermal underwear. Skin as hard as diamonds didn't do much to keep the water out of your socks. At least the mosquitoes couldn't use him as a meal.

He had flown into Florida the previous day and headed straight for the everglades. That was where his sources had told him that Danny Rand had gone, and that's where he would find his best friend.

His sources…how exactly had he learned about this place?

He suddenly tripped over a stump that he hadn't noticed a moment earlier. He hit the foot-deep water face first and choked down a mouthful of black water unwillingly. He sat up coughing, disgusted with the location.

"Christmas." Luke brushed some moss off of his shoulder and tried not to scream from frustration. "Why the hell would he come down to this godforsaken place anyway?"

Something rustled in the foliage to his right. He turned, expecting to see an alligator or crocodile (he couldn't tell the difference, and didn't care to learn – big teeth were big teeth). Instead he was greeted by a huge monster that seemed to be entirely composed of slimy plant life and insects.

The lumbering creature remained silent. It's red eyes stared directly at Luke Cage, almost challenging him to rise and strike him down. The creature appeared aggressive, as if protecting something, although Cage couldn't imagine what could possibly be worth protecting in a barren swamp.

"Easy, big guy," Cage said as he stood, attempting to sound as soothing as possible. "I get the sense that I'm trespassing here. I'm just looking for a buddy of mine."

The monstrous creature tilted it's head to one side. Cage suddenly felt an onrush of emotion, somehow conveyed directly from the murky brute. The empathic connection revealed to Cage a vision of Danny Rand treading through the everglades, wandering into a mystical portal of some sort.

It matched an implanted image in his mind almost exactly, which then triggered the second part of his programming. The programming that one Agent Travers had installed into Luke Cage without his memory.

Aggression flooded Cage's mind, causing a backlash to the empathic connection and severing it. The monster roared in shock, and Cage ground his teeth, ready to fight.

The monster, somewhere between a man and an abhorrent _thing_ , stood its ground as the former Power Man launched himself in pure aggression. He slammed his fist into the thing's face, driving diamond-hard knuckles into its mossy facial features. It bellowed in response and Cage's mind was injected with a plethora of feelings and emotions.

Cage drove his other fist into the thing's chest, shoving it backward, but not able to topple it over. He shot his foot out into the thing's leg, hoping to buckle what passed for its knee, but it had no effect. He pounded away, screaming mindlessly, denting the surface of the thing's chest, but doing little actual damage.

The thing reared back and retaliated. With speed that betrayed its size and stature, the thing clobbered Luke across the jaw. The thick tree-like appendage bowled over his face, sending him flying into the swamp. He choked down a mouthful of black water as he struggled to get up, rising only halfway up. He balanced himself on forearms and shins, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"Christmas," he muttered. "What the hell was that?"

The thing stalked up behind him, lumbering high over his bent form. It was not aggressive, but still obviously ready to put Cage down again if needed. Luke dragged his arm across his face to clear the spittle and murky water, and then looked up into the face of the creature that had knocked the sense back into him.

"Nice punch," he said. "Everything think about contracting yourself out? I made a few bucks with haymakers like that."

He couldn't be sure, but the slight gyration in the thing's torso indicated a meager laugh. It stepped back, giving Luke the space he needed to stand back up again. Luke noticed that from where he stood now he was actually further from where he assumed was the center of the swamp. The trajectory could have been a coincidence, but he didn't think that he believed in coincidences anymore.

"You're some kind of protector," Luke said. "There's something about this place, right? Something important worth looking after. Don't worry; I'm not interested in fighting over it. I'm just looking for my friend."

The thing slowly raised its arm, pointing in the direction that Luke had been traveling before his mind had been overrun with confusion and aggression. Its silent nature told him all that Luke needed to know.

"That way, huh? Alrighty. Don't suppose you have a towel or something, do you? Right. Didn't think so. Look, my friend obviously came through here. Was he in some kind of trouble?"

The monster raised one arm up in front of him, stroking what passed as his forearm with the other.

Luke nodded. "Yeah, he said his iron fist powers were out of synergy or something. He bonded with some magic sword awhile ago." Luke pointed toward the center of the swamp. "Is there something in there that could help him?"

The creature lowered his arms and remained silent.

"Right. You can't say. Part of being the guardian of this place, I assume. Thanks for the help. Sorry I decked you. Although it doesn't seem like I really scoffed up your roots at all."

Luke nodded once more, secured the satchel around his midsection (which he refused to call a fanny-pack), and stalked off deeper into the swamp. He rubbed at his jaw and made a mental note that if he ever had to come to this horrible place again that he would take the long way around instead of trekking straight through that thing's territory.

* * *

"Stay down, brat."

The verbal put-down was followed up with a physical one. A pile-driving fist rammed down into the youth's jaw, flattening him to the cold, concrete floor of the old New York warehouse. No witnesses were in the place to see the stars dancing in front of the teenager's eyes. The kid shook his head and looked back up at the thug who loved every minute of the beating.

He spat on the floor. "Tickles," the teenager said. He was dark-skinned, a result of being a mix of two different ethnicities. "You ready to start fighting yet?"

A little laugh was stirred into the chortle of disbelief as the thug cocked his fist back to deliver another blow. He was twice as big as the teenager. He had killed men with his bare hands in drunken bar brawls before. He had been ordered to snap the legs of his boss's enemies. Why wasn't this punk kid going down?

Before he could strike again and continue the lesson in pain, the youth reached out and grabbed his ankle. The man was about to laugh again. This was a common response right before the pleading began. Weak lowlifes would cling to his pant leg, shaking, weeping, and beg for mercy.

But instead he felt the kid's fingers dig into his skin. Into his muscle. Into his bone. The thug, shocked and terrified, screamed. He felt his ankle be crushed from the kid's tightening grip and fell over onto his side.

The kid finally let go and picked himself up. He spit on the floor, clearing his mouth of a little blood. "Next time I tell you something maybe you'll listen," he muttered. "Tell your boss I'm out. Now, I don't mind a fight, but you gots to come prepared, son. If you hadn't sucker punched me when we got in here maybe you could have avoided that pain."

The youth smiled. He cracked his neck, and then turned to leave the screaming thug behind him, writhing in agony. He was riled up, itching to put some hurt on some more jerks like the leg-breaker. He smirked at the irony and absentmindedly rubbed at his knuckles.

Victor thought about going to hunt the rest of the crew down at the bar he knew they always hung out at, but he decided against it. Even though his superior strength gave him an instant edge, he didn't want to interact with those guys anymore. He had said he was out. Out was out, and going looking for trouble was hardly staying away from it.

He had promised his mom that much, although he was sure that his dad would probably be okay with it. Wherever he was. They had never even met, but he felt like he still knew the guy that had knocked his mom up, which was probably because he had caught him on the news a bunch of times busting up supervillains.

A Hero For Hire was what he had been called. Victor didn't really understand how his dad was different from a mercenary, but still respected him. He wondered if his dad would respect him if he could see him now.

Maybe. He would have to know that Victor was alive, though, and Victor wasn't interested. He had done just fine on his own, and didn't need anyone else butting into his life.

It was late. He could still hear the grown man screaming like a baby from inside the warehouse. He looked to his left, the direction where his studio rat-infested apartment was in. Then he looked to the right, the direction of the bar that surely housed a few scumbags that would come looking for him tomorrow.

Victor looked up at the moon, sighed, turned to the right, and started running, summoning as much power as he could.

* * *

Cage spun the wheel of his rented eight cylinder muscle car, turning a tight corner into the underground garage of the hotel he was staying at in the city. The nightlife was out, populated by college students and eager tourists looking to partake in a little excitement. Luke Cage had no desire to join them. He was exhausted from treading through the murky swamp all day.

His search had been fruitless, although there was a stinging sensation in the back of his head that he was overlooking something. If it wasn't for that feeling, that subconscious drive to find Danny Rand or else, he would pack it in and go home. He had a business to run, after all, and Danny had been known to go on his little walkabouts before.

He slipped into a vacant parking spot, let the engine rattle to a stop, and cracked his neck. Who knew that blindly wandering through a swamp could drain you like this when you had strength rivaling Ben Grimm?

He stepped out of the black car and had barely stood up before something slammed against the side of his face. Cage went sprawling, mostly from the shock of being hit when he hadn't even seen anyone in the garage. He wiped his chin and whipped around to confront who had the balls to crack him upside the head.

"Suffer unto me…" the raspy voice of a man in a green, billowing cloak said to him. "Luke Cage…suffer unto me…"

Plumes of a thick, green fog surrounded the mystery man, wafting along the floor of the garage. It stunk of an ancient musk and Cage wanted to rinse his mouth out just because of his proximity to the all-encompassing smog.

"I'm getting a little sick weirdoes picking a fight with me just 'cause," the hero said. "Any particular reason you feel like getting an ass-beating tonight?"

The man garbed in drab green rocketed forward, propelled by the thick smoke. He moved in one fluid motion, striking Cage three more times before the hero could take his own stance. The strikes were dealt with pinpoint accuracy, stabbing into his key chi points. Cage stumbled back, his left arm numb.

"Christmas," he muttered.

The man in green swept forward again, but this time Cage was ready for him. With his right arm he feinted a blow, causing the man in green to toss up a block with his forearm. Then Cage, taking the newfound opportunity, quickly jutted his foot out into the man's stomach. The feint had worked, and his powerful leg drove his kick home.

Catapulted backward, the man in green tumbled through his own smoke and rolled several times on the ground before springing up again. His hood had been flung back, revealing a bald man that Cage had never seen before.

"Alright, Mr. Clean," Cage said. "I can dance all night long like this. You might want to start talking before I decide to really kick it into high gear."

"I am the Prince of Orphans," the man in green said, his voice distant with a slight echo. "And you are the final blockage standing in my path to total control of the mystic city."

"Mystic city? I think you got the wrong Hero For Hire, chief."

"On the contrary," the Prince of Orphans replied. "My instincts have never been sharper."

Cage was about to rebuttal once more, but his voice was choked back when he saw a bizarre phenomenon overtake the Prince's face. A green shadow masked him momentarily before it tried to separate from his features, as if a second skin was trying to free itself from his face. It pulled, wrestling back and forth, and when Cage looked closer he saw that this writhing shadowy form was not a duplicate of the Prince of Orphan's facial features.

"Danny?"

The smoky face of Daniel Rand, lashed to the Prince of Orphan's face by thin tethers of the green smog, was desperately trying to get away. It made no sound, but it was obvious that Danny was screaming as if in pain.

"Suffer unto me," the Prince of Orphans said, and then he lunged for Cage again.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Balance - Part Three

**POWER MAN & IRON FIST**

" **Balance – Part Three"**

 **Written by D. Golightly**

"Suffer unto me, Luke Cage."

The heel of John Aman's right foot crested down and crashed into the top of Luke Cage's skull, leveling him out on the pavement. It wasn't so much the force of the blow that laid out the original hired hero; it was the pinpoint accuracy of the strike. The heel slammed down at the pinnacle of Cage's dome, displacing energy across his whole head, and literally rattling his brain.

Cage rolled onto his back and sprung up, landing squarely on his feet again, but facing the wrong way. The Prince of Orphans drove both of his fists into Cage's kidneys, once again choosing a slender and pinpointed attack over brute strength.

Buckling to his knees from the sudden pain shooting up and down his spine, he felt like he might vomit. With the kind of muster that had come from years of brawling with the true heavyweights of the superhero world, Cage tossed his weight backward and stabbed his elbow into Aman's crotch.

The low tactic would be frowned upon in Ben Grimm's old wrestling federation, but on the street fighting clean and fighting dirty were the same thing as far as Cage was concerned.

Aman doubled back, desperate to regain his composure. The stumble gave cage just enough time to get back on his feet and regain his bearings. He was in a parking lot, he was sweaty from the wretched humidity of the southern town, and he tired of people picking fights with him.

"Don't know you; don't care," Luke muttered as he launched himself at the green-cloaked individual that had identified himself as the Prince of Orphans. "I just want you to give me back Danny, and I'll beat you until you give him up, freak."

With the minor loss of his concentration, John Aman's bald features shifted to reveal Luke's former partner for just the flash of a second. The smoky image of Daniel Rand, the Iron Fist, was somehow superimposed over top of Aman's face. Then, gone just as fast as it had appeared, Danny's face vanished and Aman grimaced.

Luke roared incoherently as he slammed his pile-driver fists into Aman's torso. The secretive Prince of Orphans, who had moves to rival Danny himself, teetered against the strength of the former Power Man, but remained on his feet. While Cage wasn't familiar with Aman, he was still surprised that the guy was still standing since he had him pegged for just another martial arts guru.

The stab of Luke's next blow was deflected by Aman's forearm, then countered by a strike from the Prince of Orphan's fingertips into the center of Luke's chest, stunning a cluster of nerves.

Stunned, Luke was open to a volley of quick blows from Aman across his face, chest, and arms. The series of strikes was anything but random as select chakra points were assaulted. Aman ended the sortie by leaping up and shooting his right knee into Luke's chin, which sent Luke sprawling.

Plumes of green smoke wrapped around both of them as Aman stood over Luke, gazing down at the stunned hero.

"You're all that keeps him from releasing the blade to me," the raspy voice of Aman said.

Cage shook his head to clear the cobwebs before responding. "What are you talking about? Danny?"

"The Blade of the Dragon," Aman said. "It is mine by right. I helped forge the blade in the furnace at the center of the mystic city. Your friend unveiled it and merged with it unwittingly. It will destroy him. Only I can control the blade. To take it from him, you must die."

"Danny! I know you're in this wacko's head! Fight him, bro!"

Aman kicked Cage's ribs, silencing his pleas. While the blow itself did little to push the limits of Luke's resilient durability, like all of Aman's attacks it was pinpointed to cause maximum discomfort and dishevelment. The surgical exactness of Aman's assault circumvented Cage's usual tactics.

"The usurper cannot hear you," Aman stated. "You have no idea what you are fighting against. This plan has been in motion for the last two years, Luke Cage. You will finally—"

The Prince of Orphans seized up, and his hands shot to his face and gripped the sides of his head. He took several steps back, seemingly dazed, as the smoky outline of Danny slipped back over Aman's features once more.

Danny's voice broke through Aman's wails of agony, warbled, but clear enough for Cage to understand. "Luke!" Danny shouted. "Grip his right hand!"

"Danny?"

"Do it! I don't know how long I can hold him like this!"

Blindly obeying his trusted friend, Luke Cage leapt back onto his feet and rushed Aman, tackling him around the waste. Aman's cloak billowed and spread out on the ground under them as the green smoke began to recede. Luke locked in his grip and there was no chance for Aman to shake free now.

Aman's arms flailed, pummeling Cage's back with driving elbows and palm strikes, but with no leverage or key chakra points to target it was all useless. Tactically Cage finally had the advantage, using his grappling skills to keep Aman pinned on the ground.

With a quick flash of movement, Cage caught Aman's right wrist in the air and held it there, hoping that this was all that Danny needed to do whatever it was he was going to do.

Over the years Cage had learned to trust Danny even when he was totally clueless about what he was doing. It was a foundation of their friendship. Cage didn't really trust anyone else the way that he trusted Danny Rand.

"You're a fool," Aman muttered.

"Says the man getting his ass whupped."

Aman's hand begin to shimmer in Cage's grip, much like his facial features become clouded over with Danny's image. A second hand become superimposed over Aman's, and within a heartbeat it began to glow. Cage recognized that glow as he had seen it many times over the years.

It was the Iron Fist.

The yellow energy rocketed up John Aman's arm, covering both him and Cage completely. For the tick of a second, in the space between moments, when the entire planet is held still, the three men were joined.

Then the built-up power burst like a bulging bubble and Cage was thrown clear of the Prince of Orphans. The original hired hero was tossed up against his black Dodge Charger, slamming into the driver's side door, causing the door to buckle inward. He slid to the asphalt and watched the scene unfold before him.

John Aman was lifted a few feet off the ground, his right arm held aloft, which seemingly dragged him upward. His legs kicked at nothing, trying to gain some shift in momentum to free himself. His left hand clawed at his right arm, like he was trying to scrape away the energy of the Iron Fist.

Cage felt pressure against his diamond-hard skin, like he had been thrown into a vacuum. Aman screeched something in a language that Cage didn't recognize, and then a flash of light enveloped the entire parking lot.

Luke shielded his eyes from the blinding light and when the pressure relented the light died down as well. He blinked a few times and then focused on a crouching man that looked to be shivering. It was Danny, golden hair and black dragon chest tattoo and all.

"Danny!" Luke exclaimed as he ran across the parking lot to join his friend. He placed his hand on Danny's shoulder, but his friend flinched and pulled away.

Daniel Rand looked like a broken man. His entire body was shaking, although it was barely cold at all there in the parking lot. His glanced up at Cage but couldn't bring himself to make eye contact for some reason. His right arm glowed faintly, reeking of mystic energy. Danny held his right forearm with his left hand, as if bracing it. The fingers in his right hand were rigid and looked like they were in pain.

"Luke," Danny finally muttered. "Stand back."

"What the sweet Christmas is going on?" Luke demanded, but he heeded his friend's wishes and took three steps backward.

"I'm…" Danny cleared his throat and closed his eyes. "I'm not entirely sure. I…I need to…"

Then he promptly passed out and fell to the cold, hard, unforgiving asphalt.

* * *

"I don't care what the reports say," Agent Travers said as he faced the large screen plastering the wall of his office. "The Vault is not providing accurate inmate information. Given their recent troubles I severely doubt that we can place any trust in our inside man."

The screen held the faces of three of the top brass at the Commission on Superhuman Activity. They looked displeased.

"Our _woman_ on the inside," the central figure, a red-haired woman, said.

"Yes, woman on the inside," Travers said dismissively. "Regardless, we have no idea of what their current status truly reflects. We need to take control of the facility completely, as opposed to this half-assed coup you initiated."

"James Rhodes has proven himself capable of remaining independent of Commission control," one of the other talking heads shot back at him. "If it wasn't for him—"

"Yes, Doctor Octavius would undoubtedly still be using the Vault as his private base of operations, complete with an army of supervillains. I know your argument. What I'm saying is that we can't trust that Rhodes is releasing all of the available data to us."

"Perhaps if you weren't sidetracked with this side project of yours you would be able to know for sure if our intelligence from the Vault is accurate."

Travers smirked and reached for a cigarette. "Side project? Yes. Well. That's providing several dividends that will prove useful in the coming future."

Something on the corner of his desk moved and caught his eye, causing his smirk to widen into a full grin.

"In fact, I have to give that side project a little attention at the moment. Thank you, everyone."

Before his three superiors could voice their discontent, Travers cut off the teleconference, stuffed the cigarette into his mouth, and plopped down into his leather desk chair. He leered at a glass bottle on the end of his desk, leaning closer toward it to get a better look at what had caught his eye previously.

"Hello, John," Travers said just before lighting up.

The bottle was filled with green smoke, which slowly began to dissipate. Revealed behind the cloud was the green-cloaked visage of the Prince of Orphans. He slammed his fists against the translucent glass, but to no avail. He looked like he was shouting, but no sound came out of the capped bottle.

"Got the better of you, did he?" Travers asked. "I thought he might, but I'm a little disappointed that it happened so quickly. I assumed that the Prince of Orphans could handle Luke Cage. Or was it Daniel Rand that sent you back to me?"

John Aman's face was filled with fury, but he finally settled down enough to refrain from bashing uselessly against the inside of the bottle.

"I sent Luke Cage on a mission to kill Daniel Rand," Travers said. "You were supposed to kill Rand, and then kill Cage when he showed up. If my subliminal programming with Cage had the pair kill one another before you happened along, then so be it, and you were to take out the victor of their brawl. But it seems like all of this was just a waste of time…or was it?"

Aman turned his gaze elsewhere, not wishing to match his eyes to Travers'.

Agent Travers slapped the table with glee. "Sonofabitch! You did it, didn't you? Show it to me."

With obvious reluctance the Prince of Orphans parted his cloak and held out his right arm. He concentrated for a moment and then a spark of energy ruptured outward, solidifying into a white blade with a dragon head at the base of the pommel.

The Blade of the Dragon, a sacred instrument of death forged in the heart of the mystic city, K'un Lun. The very weapon that Daniel Rand had been determined to detach from his chi to save his life.

"Fantastic," Travers said. "So, my intel on Stephen Strange was correct. Our wondrous Sorcerer Supreme sent Rand to the Florida everglades to seek help, and the Nexus of Realities sent Rand to you in turn. What did you do, tell him you would train him or something?"

With a swirl of movement the sword vanished and John Aman allowed the folds of his cloak to cover his personage once more. He remained silent.

"Yes, all of you kung fu guys say garbage like that at one point or another," Travers continued. "I don't know how you extracted it from him, but you did it. You did it. That takes us one step closer to reaching our mutual goals, my friend. A shame that they're still alive, though. Cage and Rand, I mean. They are still alive, I assume, since you're here on my desk and not bashing down my door trying to kill me."

Travers puffed out a discolored cloud of smoke and stood up. He cracked the joints in his fingers by flexing them, and then took another long drag of his cigarette. He turned away from the desk, still addressing the Prince of Orphans.

"It doesn't matter. Cage and Rand will never trace you to this location, and they have no idea of my involvement. Still…they've proven themselves resourceful. It's best to clean up your mess before it has the chance to become problematic. There's someone else close to them I've been thinking of employing. Perhaps it's time to take the next step and clean up your failure."

Travers departed the office, leaving the Prince of Orphans to his own devises. Even if Aman could have made himself heard, he wouldn't have told Travers that upon being expelled from Daniel Rand's body that he had been connected to both Rand and Cage.

And that connection had revealed more than Travers would be comfortable with.

* * *

"Drink this," Cage said.

Back in his hotel room, Luke had finally been able to get Danny to come around. Sprawled out on the single bed, Danny slowly sat up and accepted the cup of cold tap water that Luke had brought him. It tasted good and he was thankful for the refreshment, which did a lot to wake him up fully.

"Thanks, Luke," Danny said.

"Don't thank me, bro. You've saved my butt dozens of times before. All I did was shake hands with the bad guy. What happened back there?"

"It's kind of hard to explain."

"Try me."

Danny smiled and took in a deep breath before beginning. "Doctor Strange sent me to Florida in seek of someone that could help me disconnect my chi from the Blade of the Dragon. I came across some kind of portal that brought me to John Aman."

"The guy in the parking lot."

"Yeah, him. He's bad news, Luke. He merged with me somehow…I'm not familiar with the technique he used, but it was similar to the ceremony I went through to gain the power of the Iron Fist."

"Wait a hot second," Cage said. "You told me you got those power by punching a dragon in the heart."

Danny nodded. "Yep. Hurt like hell when Aman did it to me. When he did we connected he merged with the blade, and when I cast him out he took it with him."

"What? Seriously? So…you're cured?"

Danny smiled. "You could say that. My chi is back in balance again."

Luke picked Danny up in a huge bear hug, lifting him off the small bed. He spun him around and quickly deposited him back down again once he realized his childish he was acting. Recomposing himself, Luke slapped Danny on the back and just beamed at him.

"I mean…that's cool, bro," Luke muttered.

"Thanks, Luke. I appreciate it. Without your help I wouldn't have been able to cast out Aman and take back my body. When you grabbed his hand, I was able to use your strength to merge the chi of all three of us. Then I kicked Aman out of the loop and he lost control. He sought you out because I was fighting him from the inside, and he knew that my connection to you would be my undoing. Thus, he came after you before I could give him the boot."

"Good riddance."

Danny shook his head. "I thought we would just be split apart, but someone is pulling his strings, Luke. He wasn't just cast out, he was ripped. Someone has him in their power."

"Which means they have the blade in their power now, too."

"Exactly. Plus, there's more. You were sent to kill me, Luke."

"What?"

"When I connected our chi, I got a look inside your head. Someone's been screwing with your memories, Luke. You were attacked back in Chicago and then a subliminal suggestion was planted in your brain to seek me out and kill me. I disabled the suggestion when we were connected."

Luke crossed his arms over his massive chest and leaned back against the ratty lounge chair in the hotel room. He twisted his neck to try and relieve the building tension in his shoulders, but it didn't help. He hated being controlled, more than he hated just about anything else.

It harkened back to being wrongly accused, set up, imprisoned, and fleeing the authorities that wanted to lock him back up again. It had taken a long time to get out from under that injustice, which in his mind, was all a form of control.

"You get a name along with those memories?" Luke finally asked.

Danny stood up and nodded. "Travers. Agent Travers of the Commission for Superhuman Activity."

"Then I guess we know where our story goes next, huh?"

# # #

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Leaps & Bounds - Part One

**Power Man & Iron Fist #4**

 **"Leaps & Bounds – Part One"**

 **Written by D. Golightly**

"I'm not convinced that this was a good idea, Danny."

Luke Cage tried not to revisit what he had for breakfast that morning and gently placed a hand on his stomach. The proprioception didn't seem to help, and his insides continued to do back flips. Luke considered himself an urbanite, most recently of Chicago, and hated when he feet weren't planted on firm asphalt.

As the airship rocked from more turbulence, Luke once again battled down a bubble of hot bile. He glanced at his partner, Daniel Rand, otherwise known as Iron Fist, and shot daggers with his eyes.

"Relax, buddy," Iron Fist replied. "This is a lucrative contract. We'll be back down on Terra Firma soon enough."

"All the money in the world ain't enough for this crap," Cage said. He would have continued, but he felt the need to slap his hand over his mouth to contain the threat of vomit.

Danny just shook his head, the thin strips of yellow fabric from his face mask slipping back over his shoulder from the motion. From the porthole he could see mostly farmland. The majority of their cross-country flight was taken up by the Midwest, which meant for poor sightseeing.

He had to admit that this wasn't the most glamorous job they had ever accepted. Akin to babysitting, they were hired by Tony Stark himself to escort a prototype airship on its maiden voyage from Los Angels to New York City. The armored Avenger had assured him that this was a serious mission, and that he really needed the Heroes For Hire to keep this investment safe.

Apparently, it wasn't important enough to warrant his own presence, or that of his fellow Avengers, but it was important nonetheless.

Danny hadn't bothered to tell him that they weren't the Heroes For Hire anymore. That moniker had dissolved when the last incarnation of the team had gone belly-up. With Deathlok in Madripor and the others spread throughout the hemisphere, Luke and Danny were all that was left of the H4H, so it seemed like they had come full circle once more. Still, money was money, and Stark was good people as far as Danny was concerned, so he accepted the assignment.

"Let's go topside and have a look around," Iron Fist said. Luke reluctantly followed.

Breaching the cabin door and ascending the narrow stairwell, the pair found themselves on the main deck of the newly christened _Insular_ , a play on words concerning the Latin heritage of the word. The massive luxury airship was a new venture to create stylistic transcontinental transportation, like a steamship liner cruise ship, only 20,000 feet above sea level.

It used repulsor technology to stay aloft, with huge rings of glowing coils lining the underbelly of the vessel. The elongated deck looked just like a vacation cruise ship, complete with shuffle board, a water slide feeding into a massive pool, and several tiki bars. The interior held quarters for around 1,100 guests, as well as a ballroom, a movie theater, restaurants, and several common areas.

It was a multibillion dollar project, to be sure, so it made sense for Stark to want a little extra protection on board during the test flight. The main deck was devoid of life, since only a skeleton crew was on board aside from Luke and Danny.

"I'm going to hurl," Luke said.

"Oh for crying out loud..."

Iron Fist stopped short and Cage bumped into him as he turned around. Danny grabbed Luke's left wrist and tapped the dorsal branch of the ulnar nerve, just below the lunate. He paused a heartbeat, then tapped twice more. Upon the final gentle strike Cage stood upright, his eyes going wide.

"Christmas," he muttered. "I...I feel a lot better. What did you just do?"

"Tapped a chakra point into submission. Your brain now thinks you're fine, which you are, by the way. It's all in your head, Luke. Honestly, how is it you can bench press a bus, but you get queasy because you're up in the air? It's not like we're flying in a prop plane, dancing through the clouds or something."

"Danny, this crate is the very definition of a prop plane."

Iron Fist smirked and then turned his attention to his surroundings. There was an eerie feeling that washed over him, mainly due to the empty yet fully automated luxuries around him. The water slide was splashing water into the vacant pool, the neon signs at the bars were lit and blinking, and music pulsed out of the dozens of speakers spread around the deck.

It was a cushy gig, but a little boring.

"Want to play some shuffle board?" Iron Fist asked.

That's when the gunfire started.

* * *

He didn't know what they wanted with him, but he was sure that if he didn't get away that he was a dead man.

Victor knew the streets of Hell's Kitchen better than most, having grown up there. As an Afro-Dominican he could fit into most neighborhoods with relative ease. There were few gangs, dealers, junkies, and hoods that didn't know him by name. Not that he had ever fallen in with that sort; his mom would have killed him.

But that was the last thing on his mind right now. After coming home from his job at the warehouse, loading produce and the like, Victor had been jumped by ninjas. Freakin' _ninjas_. His strength had been augmented right away, just as soon as he instinctively knew that he was in danger, and he had managed to get away. It was playing out like a video game, but he had knocked one ninja unconscious and then bolted down the street just as fast as his feet would take him.

He cut across the street without looking. This late at night the only people on the roadways were either johns looking for some company or wannabe gangstas looking for some trouble.

An old tenant building was being restored and the alley was filled with scaffolding. He ducked beneath the switchback railings and planks, hoping to find a suitable hiding place. He hadn't settled for more than a few seconds before the entire scaffolding rattled from something landing on the top rung.

He looked skyward, seeing the moon hanging just above the lip of the building, and saw shadows slide down the poles and railings. Their motions were fluid and looked rehearsed, like chasing a black teenager through the Kitchen was commonplace for them.

He was still riding high on the strength he had absorbed from their first attack, so Victor grabbed one of the support poles and ripped it out of the rest of the scaffolding. Metal shrieked as the entire structure began to collapse, not just from Victor pulling it apart, but from the now unsupported weight of the three ninjas that were working their way downward.

Without missing a beat, the three ninjas leaped from the deteriorating scaffolding and landed on the fire escape of the building across the alley. They had barely been slowed down, and Victor now had several hundred pounds of metal and planking falling on top of him.

He threw himself out onto the sidewalk, narrowly escaping the plunging bars. The noise was deafening and would surely wake people up. Witnesses would start arriving soon and Victor thought might end up being a better defense than trying to fight these weirdos off on his own. After all, what kind of ninjas pick a fight in public?

No sooner had the scaffolding settled and the scarping metal stopped assaulting his ears then he sat up and felt something hot wrap around his neck. He instinctively reached up and gripped the tether, which seems to be some kind of burning construct, but couldn't pull it off or gain any slack. He was being choked out.

The three ninjas from the alley cautiously stepped toward him and he heard a fourth come from behind, which undoubtedly was the one wielding this energy whip that was now cutting off his air supply. He felt his strength draining away and reached out again in a desperate attempt to absorb more from the oncoming ninjas.

The lead ninja from the alley slid out a blood-red energy dagger from his waist band, lurched forward, and stabbed it into Victor's forehead. Instead of cutting into his tissue and bone, however, it cut into his psyche.

The world went black.

* * *

"Come aboard, he says. It's a babysitting gig for Stark, he says. Imma kill you, Danny!"

Luke Cage ripped the top off of a tiki bar and tossed it at a grouping of gunmen. The fiberglass counter top sailed through the air, crashing into the deck just below where the gunmen had chosen to make their stand. The hardwood exploded at their feet, peppering them with splinters and chunks of building material.

Iron Fist was squatting down behind the tiki bar next to the standing Cage. He cracked his neck and waited. He wasn't going to bother responding to his partner's comments; he knew that Luke just needed to unload.

Instead, Danny was focused more on the biped hover bikes that were lashing cables to the front of the _Insular_. He had a perfect view of the crew that was trying to usurp steering control over the airship by tying off cables to the front bow.

"Screw this," Cage said.

He hopped over what remained of the top of the tiki bar and just walked over to the gunmen. Their weapons, modified MP-5s, assaulted him relentlessly. They emptied out entire magazines within seconds of each other, drilling slugs against his diamond hard skin. His stroll was almost casual, alarming the gunmen and causing them to panic as he came closer and closer.

Two of the four gunmen finally gave up and ran the other way. A third, now completely out of ammunition, chose to throw his machine gun at Cage, which harmlessly bounced off his chest and bullet-riddled yellow shirt. Then he joined his fleeing partners.

One remained behind, who had just slammed a fresh clip home as Cage came within a foot of him. The gunman stuttered, then raised the muzzle of his weapon level with Cage's face, and pulled the trigger. Cage's head jutted back from the burst of gunfire, and he let out a low growl of aggravation.

He grabbed the shirt of the hijacker, lifted him off his feet, and pulled him close. "I might be bulletproof," Cage said, "but it still hurts, jerk."

Luke slapped the gunman, who let out a girlish squeal, and then let him fall to the floor unconscious.

Iron Fist waited for the men to finish attaching their cables and to remount their hover bikes. The bikes had two large turbines on either side, which must supply the lift they required. He couldn't imagine they would be powerful enough to pull the _Insular_ where they wanted it to go, but it would likely be more than enough to steer the vessel.

When both their backs were turned he made his move. Iron Fist grabbed a pair of metal spatulas from beneath the grill on the tiki bar, twirling them like escrimi sticks. As he built momentum and speed, ducking beneath umbrellas near the pool, Iron Fist summoned the power of his namesake, causing his right hand and forearm to begin to glow.

There were two pilots for the hover bikes, and the first heard his approach just a moment too late. He turned halfway around when Iron Fist slapped the thin stainless steel of the spatula head against the open portion of his face, the part not covered by a helmet.

With the other spatula, Iron Fist flicked it upward, catching the pilot just under the chin and staggering him. Iron Fist spun fully around and drove his elbow into the man's solar plexus, knocking him down.

By then the other pilot had turned, dismounted, and slung a machine gun off his shoulder. A spray of bullets punched through empty air, as Iron Fist has already slipped underneath his arc. By flawlessly spinning around as part of his crouch, he brought up his pair of spatulas to criss-cross against the underside of the machine gun's barrel. With a flick of his wrists he disarmed the gunman.

Iron Fist lashed out with left snap kick, targeted behind the gunman's right knee. His opponent's leg gave out and he fell into a kneeling position, which was perfect for the energized right haymaker that Iron Fist tossed into his chin.

Both pilots were down, but as Iron Fist reached to dislodge the guiding cables, something slammed into the small of his back. He was nearly tossed over the lip of the airship, but he managed to grab one of the cables that was still connected to the _Insular_. He dangled precariously right on the edge, the majority of his body still balanced on the tip of the massive luxury vessel.

"We meet again, _monsieur_."

Iron Fist managed to look up just enough to see the familiar purple and orange uniform of a French savate expert named Batroc the Leaper. His skills in the French kick-boxing style were unparallel, as was his international reputation for smuggling, larceny, and other mercenary exploits.

He was a brutal killer, a skilled tactician, and more importantly at the moment, a decision maker in whether or not Danny Rand continued to walk amongst the living.

"I always appreciate crossing swords with you Americans," Batroc said as he fingered his mustache. "You're always very good at handling what's in front of you, but alas, you rarely watch your own backs."

"I have someone to do that for me," Iron Fist said.

…which Cage took as his signal to tackle Batroc around the waist. They fell to the deck in a tangle of arms and legs, with Batroc thrashing wildly while gripped by Cage's strong upper body. Batroc tried to leverage himself free, but once Luke Cage had his grip set none fewer than the Juggernaut could break the hold.

"You okay, partner?" Cage asked.

Iron Fist pulled himself up and rolled back onto the deck beside the pair of men. "I'm better now," Iron Fist replied. "The rest of his crew?"

"All down for the count. This nutcase sent—"

Batroc threw his head back and smashed Cage's nose, snapping the cartilage out of place. Cage instinctively loosened his grip and Batroc, as slippery as an eel, fell out of this bear hug. With a swift kip up, the savate fighter was bouncing around on his feet instantly.

His practiced footwork created a framework of kicks that seemed to target Iron Fist from all sides. Despite himself, Danny was pushed back by the assault. It was like a blur of color was sweeping toward him, each kick more powerful than the next. It was all he could do to block all of them.

Until Batroc feinted to one side, and then blasted Iron Fist in the gut with a precision strike. Danny doubled over, positioning him perfectly for a killing blow. Batroc the Leaper angled back, falling into his fighter's stance, and adjusted his weight to that it all fell onto his right leg. With a sneer, Batroc took advantage of his opponent's disadvantaged and surprised state, and cocked back his leg that would be powerful enough to separate his brain stem.

At the last second Iron Fist lurched forward. The angle of Batroc's kick was now all wrong, and he overshot. Danny ducked under Batroc's foot and rose up so that Batroc's leg was wrapped over his shoulder. Iron Fist latched onto Batroc's thigh and then kicked out his feet from under him, dropping him to the deck on his back with his leg still extended and in Iron Fist's control.

Iron Fist didn't miss a beat; he choked Batroc's ankle and twisted, snapping the bones within.

The mercenary cried out, issuing a string of profanities. They were all in French, however, and feel on deaf ears.

"Ouch," Cage said as he approached, gripping his nose between his fingers. "That had to hurt."

Danny nodded at Luke. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, just my dignity that's in shambles. My nose might be broke. Not sure. Hurts."

"Any idea who Batroc is working for?"

Cage shook his head, but stopped quickly as he winced from the discomfort. "Nope. Does it really matter? As far as we're concerned we just earned our paycheck, bro. Let Stark figure it all out."

"Bastards!" Batroc exclaimed. "Release me, you two—"

"Shut up," Luke and Danny said in unison.

* * *

"So, who tried to hijack your dirigible?"

The image of Tony Stark raised his eyebrow. "It's not a dirigible, Luke," Tony's electronic image replied. "It's a highly sophisticated application of repulsor tech that the world's elite will enjoy commercially."

"You mean the two percent that can afford to use it," Danny muttered.

"I thought all airships were called dirigibles," Luke added.

"And the answer is no, I haven't figured out who hired Batroc to kidnap my ship. I did backtrack his communications to the source, though. He was using one of my satellites to bounce the signal into Madripoor. I don't suppose the two of you have any interest in pursuing this for me?"

"That depends," said Luke. "You paying our way?"

"Of course. First class, all the way."

Luke and Danny traded a quick glance. Then Danny said, "Alright, I think the Heroes For Hire can help you out on this one, Tony. Where do we begin?"

"Perfect. I'll have my assistant book a flight for you right away and send you the details. I've already taken the liberty of having one of our locals get started on the investigation. An old friend of yours, as a matter of fact. He's been heading up my research department in Madripoor."

Luke's eyes narrowed. "For real? Are you talking about—" he started to say.

"While my R&D team there would prefer to call him something other than Deathlok, he's already up to speed and ready to give you whatever local support you'll need to take this thing by the horns. Good luck, gentlemen, and enjoy the crime-ridden streets of Madripoor."

# # #

TO BE CONTINUED


	5. Leaps & Bounds - Part Two

**Power Man & Iron Fist #5**

 **Leaps & Bounds – Part Two**

 **Written by D. Golightly**

"Welcome to Madripoor."

The cybernetic hand extended to Luke Cage was warmly accepted. As Cage and Danny Rand, the Iron Fist, stepped off of their private jet that had been arranged by Tony Stark himself, they took in the sights and sounds of the Madripoor International Airport. For such a small nation the airport was fairly active, mostly because the country had a heavy list of exports to consign.

"Thanks," Iron Fist said as he took Deathlok's hand in turn. "Good to see you again."

"How's Madripoor treating you?" Cage asked as they followed Deathlok off of the tarmac.

"Let she treats anyone else, I suppose. The outskirts in Lowtown are pretty rough, but Hightown is actually not too bad. If you stick to the main city you'll be fine. They welcome tourists openly."

Deathlok led them through the airport and waited for customs to clear them, which didn't take long since both only had a small travel bag with nothing to declare accept clothes and toiletries. They were here on business, and planned to be headed back to the United States just as soon as they solved Tony Stark's espionage problem.

"Have you tracked down where the communiqué came from?" Iron Fist asked as they tossed their bags into the awaiting armored convoy that would escort them through Hightown. "All we know is that someone from Madripoor contracted Batroc to try and make off with Stark's airship."

Once inside the 4x4 vehicle, Deathlok tapped on the glass between the passenger compartment and the driver's seats, commanding the driver to get moving. "Yes, I triangulated the source," Deathlok said. "There's a compound in Lowtown that's been operating as a shipping company, but everyone knows it's a front."

"Aren't most things in Madripoor?" Cage inquired with a smirk.

"Sure," said Deathlok, the necrotic tissue of his face barely moving as he spoke. "But this one doesn't even try and hide its operations. Most places around here have enough respect to at least pretend they're legit. This place is a shipping company in name only; they never harbor any freight and they haven't even filed documentation with the government in the last five years."

"So what do they do?" Iron Fist asked.

"That's what we're going to find out tonight," Deathlok replied. "Right after we stop off at my building and pick up a few things."

* * *

"Hello, Victor. Can you hear me?"

Victor Alvarez blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. Once the dark blobs and images started to form into sharper shapes, he realized just enough about his situation to start fighting against his restraints. He reached for the power to break his bonds but was shocked to find that it wouldn't come to him.

He shook his head in frustration and then looked around to get a better look at his surroundings. He was in a dark room with a metal floor, strapped to a metal chair. Overhead was a dangling light. His eyes couldn't pierce the shadows lining the walls, so he couldn't see if there were windows, doors, or anyone else in the room with him.

He reached for strength again, and once more, he failed.

"Yes, my sensors are telling me that you're trying to bulk up," the voice said again. "You can relax, Victor. I've been studying you. I've made sure that your ability to extract strength from other organisms and increase your own is rather limited. You have a proximity range for your abilities. Did you know that? I'm guessing not."

Victor turned his head to try and see where the voice was coming from, but couldn't twist far enough in his restraints to turn completely around.

"No, I'm not in the room with you, Victor. You're hearing me through a speaker system, but I'm not far. Like I said, with you it's all about proximity apparently."

"Who are you?" Victor demanded. With the cobwebs clearing he was beginning to remember being jumped by the ninjas. "Where am I?"

"You're right where you need to be," the voice responded. "I would have completed this procedure while you were asleep, but for this particular series of treatments I need your conscious mind wide awake. Kindly turn your attention to the front of the room."

A light flicked on from an overhead lamp, exactly like the one hanging over Victor. Instead of another person, however, it just displayed an old, tattered, purple top hat. At the base of the hat, where the top met the brim, there was a spiral disc. The disc began to spin, slowly at first, but then increasing in speed, and from the first movement Victor was mesmerized.

"You see, Victor," the voice continued. "I tried to plant a subliminal series of commands into another operative, but he somehow overcame those suggestions. Normally I would have my men implant similar suggestions into you via their psionic devices, but I'm not one to repeat my mistakes."

Victor felt his concentration begin to shatter as his gaze was locked onto the strange top hat at the far side of the room.

"Do you recognize this device?" the voice continued. "It belonged to the Ringmaster. A buffoon, to be honest, and someone that is safely locked away in the Vault. The technology is sound, however, and this old hat of his still works."

"Why…why are you doing this?" Victor managed to ask.

"Why?" The voice chuckled. "Victor, ours is not to ask why, but to do and die."

* * *

The dimly lit warehouse on the edge of a marina in Lowtown fit in perfectly with Madripoor's atmosphere. The city and same-named country were known for housing the dregs of humanity, but were held in check by the juxtaposition of the society of Hightown. Hard science had its place right alongside the smuggling, and many prestigious companies based their operations out of the small island.

"How does the mesh feel?" Deathlok inquired.

Iron Fist flexed his muscles and twisted his torso, testing the elasticity of the high-composite mesh that Deathlok had outfitted him with. It was stylized with a yellow dragon over his chest, his chosen symbol, and mostly matched his standard uniform. It was more dense, however, and Deathlok had promised it would offer him greater protection.

"A little restrictive," Iron Fist replied, "but better than I thought. This will stop a slug?"

"Up to a certain caliber, yes. Luke? How does your suit you?"

Luke Cage stepped out of the armored transport and onto the wooden planks of the dock, planting his feet next to Danny. He wore his standard blue jeans and yellow t-shirt, stretched tight over his muscular frame.

"Not my style, 'Lok," Cage replied with a smile. "Diamond-hard skin, remember?"

Deathlok let out an irritated sigh. "Luke," he began, "the mesh does a lot more than just stop bullets. It helps regulate your body temperature and—"

"I'm good," Luke cut in, raising his hand to stop Deathlok mid-sentence. "Can we get moving?"

Deathlok grimaced, but just shook his head instead of continuing his argument. He knew from working with Cage as part of the previous incarnation of the Heroes For Hire that continuing the conversation would just be pointless. As opposed to pointing out the high cost, delicate care, and hours of work that went into the suit that Luke had brushed aside, he instead slid back the mechanism on his arm-length weapon.

The bolt slid back, chambered a high-caliber round, and slammed it into place within the steel barrel. The weapon was also of his own design, thanks in no small part to Stark's tech that had been made available to him. The thing was practically a cannon, but had minimal kickback.

"The signal to Batroc originally came from in there," Deathlok said, pointing at the darkened warehouse. "How do you want to play this?"

"Let's knock on the front door and see what happens," Cage replied as he walked between the other two men and made way for the warehouse.

Danny tossed Deathlok a cautious look. "It seems like Luke has volunteered to be our distraction," Iron Fist said. "I'll work my way around onto the roof. You take the rear?"

Deathlok nodded and the trio went their separate ways. Once Luke had reached the bulky warehouse doors, he pounded on the tattered wood at the seam, easily snapping both doors off their hinges. Deathlok and Iron Fist were both out of sight by the time he had reached the entrance.

"Knock, knock!" he shouted into the warehouse.

Several people looked up at him, startled. Their smuggling operation looked to be laid out for the world to see: opened crates strewn throughout the facility, various tables of lab equipment with powders and solutions, and workers wearing latex gloves and masks. In the center of the warehouse were stacks of equipment that Cage didn't recognize, but looked complex, much like what he had seen at Four Freedoms Plaza way back in the day.

A woman off to the side started barking commands at Luke's sudden entrance, issuing orders to the workers. Her trim black hair was cut close to her face, and she had a scar running down her right cheek, but it was delicate enough to almost enhance her natural beauty. The workers began collecting equipment and crates, and then scattering at her dictum.

"Something wrong?" Luke asked with a sneer. "Seems to me like we need to have a little chat. First off, who's in charge here?"

A blinding lance of energy struck Cage from the side, throwing him off balance. The yellowish hue of the energy bathed him completely, throwing him into a fit of vertigo alongside sending his nerve-endings into hysteria. To make matters worse, the pain didn't stop once he hit the floor; the aggressor kept pouring on the assault, keeping the beam steady on his body even after he was down.

Cage growled and tried to sit up, but that's when the intensity of the beam seemed to increase. He was flattened out and starting to regret walking right up to the place.

"You want me to kill him?" a muffled voice said from somewhere in the corner of the warehouse. Cage heard metal footsteps coming toward him, but the constant energy beam wrecked his concentration beyond that. "I've seen this guy before. He's trouble. Better off killing him."

The man who held Cage at bay was clad in medieval armor, complete with a blue tunic and cape. His helmet covered his face completely, masking his appearance as well as his delight from pummeling Cage with his energy lance. The weapon was especially designed to take down something as big as an elephant, and the searing energy was proving more than enough to hold down Cage.

"Not necessary, Dreadknight," a female voice replied. Cage couldn't see her, but he assumed it was the woman who had issued the orders when he entered. "He might not be alone. We need to—"

A shattering crash from above disrupted her from further commands, and those that hadn't scattered looked to the ceiling of the warehouse. Iron Fist dropped straight down on top of Dreadknight, smashing him into the warehouse floor. While his armored helmet did much to adsorb the impact, the thunderous arrival knocked him out at least temporarily.

Iron Fist rolled forward, using his momentum from the controlled fall to somersault closer to the downed Luke Cage. With Dreadknight out and the energy lance extinguished, Cage was able to regain his senses. Danny helped him sit up, and Cage looked like he was ready to crush some skulls.

"You okay?" Iron Fist asked.

Cage just shoved him aside. "Who sucker-punched me?" he demanded. He stood back up on wobbly legs. "C'mon! I'm right here, you—"

"Easy," Iron Fist muttered.

He noticed Dreadknight was down and then turned to Danny. "Thanks, bro," he said, and then turned to the woman across the warehouse. "Lady, you are in for a world of hurt."

They noticed her vision dash to one side, looking between and passed them. Iron Fist turned just in time to peripherally see a blur of motion, but couldn't react before he was taken down. The man displayed deft agility, springing toward him with arms outstretched. He cupped his hands under Danny's chin as he flipped over his torso, and at the apex of his somersault, he pulled up on Danny's head.

Gravity took over, and when the newcomer landed like a cat on his feet, Iron Fist's throat was pulled down hard onto the man's shoulder. Iron Fist instantly blacked out and fell to the floor.

Cage jabbed at the man's jaw and caught him off guard, but just barely as he was able to roll with the hit at the last second. Without breaking stride, he contorted his body and grabbed onto Cage's forearm, using the hero's own momentum against him in an perfectly executed judo hip toss. Cage was down on his back beneath the figure.

He saw the tattoos covering the man's naked upper body and instantly recognized him. His eyes went wide as Mister X stabbed his fingers into Cage's solar plexus, followed by a quick double-tap to his larynx. The sudden shock locked Cage into paralysis.

"Thank you," the woman said, removing her surgical mask from where it hung around her neck. "Were there more?"

"I did not inspect the entire premises," Mister X replied. His body was glistening with sweat, enhancing the toned muscles of his body. The sunglasses he wore hid his gaze, but he wouldn't bring it to meet her own anyway. "This one will only be down for a moment; he is merely stunned. I suggest taking measures to constrain him."

As one of Madripoor's premiere fighters, a man who had disabled the legendary Wolverine on occasion, his assessment was taken as gospel. His keen martial arts were his signature; few people managed to overcome either his defenses or his insight.

She nodded. "Dreadknight? Are you…capable?"

The armored villain arose from behind the downed heroes, barely able to keep himself upright. He picked his helmet back up and slipped into place against his scalp, feeling all the better, like he was whole again.

"Damn ninjas," he muttered. "Yeah, I'll put them in stasis. If I had known he was up there I wouldn't have been jumped like that. I was expecting Stark. That's why you brought me on board, right? In case Stark showed up?"

"Please take care of our guests," she said with a chill. "We can discuss your ability to circumnavigate unexpected problems later."

Dreadknight scowled beneath his helmet, but like Mister X, he wouldn't dare let make eye contact with her directly. He withdrew two circuit boards from within the folds of his draping cloak. He motioned for Mister X to prop up the two heroes against a support beam in the center of the warehouse, and once in place, he adhered the boards to both Luke and Danny's chests.

Yellow and white energy seeped out of the boards, throwing their muscles into spasm. The shock of their nervous systems going into full throttle was enough to wake both of them up, but due to their clenched muscles they couldn't scream. They could barely even breathe.

"Like that, do ya?" Dreadknight said, mockingly. "I pulled that from one of Stark's medical shipments. A few little tweaks and it works wonders as an incapacitator."

"Perhaps you shouldn't be revealing the source of your technology," Mister X muttered as he rubbed his knuckles, hoping that the duo would be primed for another match soon.

"It's okay," the woman said as she approached. "Perhaps they can be our errand boys and take a message back to Tony Stark for us."

She pulled away the hospital scrubs she was wearing, sliding them off of her lithe body to reveal a sleek black bodysuit beneath. She was obviously in shape, perhaps even prepared for the kind of lifestyle that the others in the room were accustomed to living. She certainly carried herself confidently enough.

She pulled a ribbon from her hair and let it fall to the ground, releasing her black follicles. They danced around her high cheekbones and framed her perfectly. She was stunning, but it was the kind of beauty they made a person hesitant. She was confidant, and when applied with her attractive features, she could be dangerous.

"Could you do that for us, Americans?" she said once she was closer. "Of course, you can't reply. But don't worry. Once Mister X is through with using you as punching bags your tongues will be lose enough. I assume you tracked us here somehow…perhaps through that French imbecile?"

She smirked and turned away from the pair, sauntering back toward a stack of crates. Some of them were open, revealing racks of equipment that were unfamiliar to the heroes.

"Since Batroc failed to report in and I don't seem to have a spare airship hovering overhead, I assume I'm correct. He was so highly recommended, too. Maybe that speaks to your abilities. Maybe I should let Mister X kill you now? But like I said, you could serve as a messenger to Stark since he's obviously too important to investigate our robberies himself."

She removed a slender piece of equipment from a rack inside the crate. "You know what these are? Rotary suppressors. They actually disrupt analog signals through digital means. Amazing, right? Now the old-school spies that try to stay under the government's radar by using outdated technology for communication won't be able to hide anymore. Thanks to Stark."

She pointed to another set of crates. "Those are full of x-ray lens generators. They're portable x-ray machines no larger than the size of your phone; perfect for field medics operating under harsh wartime conditions. Across from those are tactile resonance filters, RAM enhancers, and much more. Several billion dollar's worth of tech. All Stark tech. All mine."

She turned back to face them, dropping the rotary suppressor she had removed to make her point. "But can he even be bothered to come find out has happened to his precious technology? These shipments were all stolen away from him, and yet he sends in the B-Squad of heroes to do his dirty work. A typical American response. The egotism just drips from his body like perspiration."

Iron Fist fought against his bonds, but couldn't even flex a single muscle. The agony was so intense that he found it hard to even concentrate on what this mystery woman was telling him. Beside him, he heard Cage manage to utter a few grunts, but despite his strength, even the famous Luke Cage couldn't budge.

"I doubt he'll even come looking for you," she continued. "To him you're just another set of disposable belongings. He has no respect for you; for your lives. He detests those that are his superiors and will not blink at a chance to dispose of them. He sweeps things under the rug…just like he did with my father."

"Just let me kill them," Dreadknight said.

"No! I want them alive…I want them to know that the daughter of Tony Stark's first enemy, the great Wong-Chu, is taking apart his empire piece by piece. He will know what it is to lose something precious, even if I have to dismantle him through his own technology!"

Her eyes blazed a glorious green hue as she focused intently on Iron Fist and Cage.

"All those associated with Tony Stark will know terror like none other at the hands of Sing-Chu, Daughter of the Warlord!"

 _Next issue: A nightmare from Tony Stark's past brings the pain to our boys, and the truth is revealed! But where is Deathlok in all of this, and who is this Victor kid anyway?_


	6. Leaps & Bounds - Part Three

**Power Man & Iron Fist #6**

 **Leaps & Bounds – Part Three**

 **Written by D. Golightly**

As things went, the boys had done better.

Danny Rand, the wielder of the legendary Iron Fist technique, struggled against the incapacitating field generated by the circuit board attached to his chest. Likewise, his partner in heroics, the famous Luke Cage, struggled uselessly beside him. Sucker-punched and brought down by the dual talents of the armored Dreadknight and the brawler known as Mister X, they were held inside the very warehouse they had come to investigate and being lectured by a passionate woman they had never even heard of before.*

 _* [Remember the last issue?]_

All that Iron Fist could think of was how much he hated visiting Madripoor. Every time he came here he ended up getting jumped.

The only thought going through Cage's head was where the hell was Deathlok? Unless he had completely misunderstood how math worked, there were three of them when they breached the warehouse. So…where was he?

Dreadknight returned from the other side of the warehouse, keeping his lance aimed at the two captured men. He bounced slightly as he struggled to re-zip his costume with one hand while the other kept his weapon centered. Mister X shook his head at his forced ally.

"What?" Dreadknight said. "When you got to go, you got to go."

"It is so typical of Stark to send lackeys to clean up his messes," Sing-Chu, the self-proclaimed Daughter of the Warlord, said. "I have stolen billions of dollars of his technology, funneling his shipments to this warehouse, but it is a mere drop in the bucket to him. Philanthropist? Hardly. These stolen goods are just a tax right-off to him."

"Keeping them alive is a bad idea, boss lady," Dreadknight said. He sauntered up beside her, his grotesque helmet hiding the apprehension in his eyes. "Trust me. I know these guys. Just let me kill them now before—"

"You would kill paralyzed opponents?" Mister X blurt out with obvious disgust in his voice. He stood shirtless, not having even broken a sweat in taking down the two Heroes For Hire. He removed his sunglasses and eyed Dreadknight cautiously. "Coward. I'll gladly kill them, but release them first. Where is the sport in a defenseless opponent?"

"Shut up, the both of you," Sing-Chu commanded. "If Stark won't come for his tech, he'll come for his employees. He loves playing the hero, doesn't he? Yes. He's arrogant. They'll be the bait for my final vengeance against Stark."

"What is it with you and Stark?" Dreaknight inquired. "I mean, I hate the guy, too, don't get me wrong. But I can branch out a little."

The death stare Sing-Chu shot him made him instantly regret his remarks. "Stark is a pathetic craven that caused the death of my father, the great Wong-Chu, and the first rival of the now famous Iron Man. Do you know how Stark came to possess his armor? By using my father's resources to create a weapon that led to his death!"

The fury in Sing-Chu's face was evident. She paced the warehouse floor, staring coldly at Dreadknight. She said, "My father, a prominent soldier in the Mandarin's legions, captured Stark while he was wounded, and held him captive. He was to make a new weapon for _my father_ , but he used it to escape instead! Because of his cowardly act, my father was left to face the Mandarin's wrath without the promised weapon. It resulted in his death. But would Stark care? Of course not!"

Dreadknight stepped back from Sing-Chu, stopping when his back pressed up against a large dynamo that powered most of the equipment in the warehouse. The woman seemed unhinged and ready to lash out.

"Vengeance is something I can appreciate," Mister X added. "However, while I sympathize with your plight, and enjoy spending your money, I must agree with the idiot dressed like a renaissance buffoon. Keeping them alive is foolish."

"I'll keep them as hostages until—"

The power throughout the entire facility suddenly went out. With just a vague impression of moonlight coming in through the small windows lining the ceiling, the majority of the warehouse was plunged into darkness. Sing-Chu cursed and Mister X moved closer to Luke and Danny, expecting their fight to be renewed.

"I've got it," Dreadknight called out in the darkness. "I can pick up the available ambient light in my helmet. I'll get us back online in a second. Uh…X? Can you get over to the breaker and see if something was tripped while I check out the dynamo?"

" _Mister_ X," the fighter replied coldly. He detested being lopped in with someone so unprofessional, but still did as he was asked. He wasn't an electrical engineer so he would be forced to comply with an idiot's direction for the time being.

"Right. Mister. Sorry."

"This reeks of trickery," Sing-Chu said.

"Just hang tight, boss lady," Dreadknight replied. "I'll have the lights back on in a second."

True to his word, a few moments later the lights did come back on. Only Sing-Chu was shocked to see that her two captives were no longer bound by the circuit boards that Dreadknight had adhered to their chests. Iron Fist stretched his back while Cage wiggled his broken nose back into place. What surprised her all the more, however, was that Dreadknight was standing beside them with his back to her, holding the two circuit boards.

"What are you—" she started to say.

 _Crack!_

The brittle boards split into pieces and fell to the floor at Dreadknight's feet. The mercenary turned to face her and said, "Sorry, Daughter of the Warlord. I've had a better offer."

Mister X came surging back to their corner of the warehouse, his face contorted with rage. "The real Dreadknight is bound and gagged in the bathroom!" he said. "I checked because this one's body language was suddenly different. That's an imposter!"

'Dreadknight' reached to his belt and turned a dial on his belt buckle. His visage shimmered for a moment before dropping away completely, fading to reveal his true self hidden behind a holographic projection. The majority of his body was encased in armor, with the half of his face not covered up looking partially decomposed. He smiled at them and held an arm-length rifle at the two of them, which until a moment ago been disguised as a lance.

"A short-range EMP took out the dynamo," Deathlok said. "It was all the distraction I needed to get close enough to these guys to set them free again. Only lasts about a minute, though."

"Sure took you long enough," Cage muttered.

"Turn yourselves in now," Iron Fist said firmly, "and we'll drop the kidnapping charges for holding us against our wills."

"Death first," Mister X said with a sneer.

The five of them faced each other, no one willing to take the first step. Despite the fact that Deathlok had both Mister X and Sing-Chu covered, they knew better than to simply approach the pair. Mister X alone was a martial arts force of nature, and Sing-Chu was an unknown factor who could have anything up her sleeve.

Seconds ticked away in total silence. Sing-Chu slowly lowered her hands to her sides, making Deathlok's trigger finger all the more itchy.

The bathroom door burst open and the real Dreadknight stumbled out, obviously woozy. His helmet clattered to the floor and he fell to his knees. Looking at them, he raised his arm and pointed at Deathlok, shouting, "Kill them!"

All hell broke loose. Sing-Chu slipped a metal disc out of her pocket and tossed it at Cage at the same time that Mister X ducked low and sprung forward. Deathlok's weapon fired, but missed Sing-Chu wide and blew a stack of crates over, their metal contents spilling onto the warehouse floor.

Mister X tackled Iron Fist around the waste just as the disc struck Cage's abdomen. Both tumbled backward as Deathlok gave chase after the Daughter of the Warlord, ignoring the rant from Dreadknight who was fumbling with something on his armor.

The air had been punched out of Iron Fist as he grappled with Mister X on the ground, each man trying desperately to get some kind of leverage over the other. While Iron Fist had been trained by mystical agents of a long forgotten order, his opponent had years of brawling experience that superseded even the most rigorous training. His real life cage matches were a matter of life and death, and as a result, his theoretical knowledge of martial arts had been honed. Danny had been pitted against his fair share of opponents, but none with such an eclectic hand-to-hand background as Mister X.

Driving his right fist into Danny's side again and again while his left grappled with keeping the hero down, Mister X grinned as he both felt and heard one of Danny's ribs snap. The sudden jolt of pain normally would have weakened an adversary, and while Iron Fist did flinch, his muscles only flexed all the harder.

It was a technique taught to him by several of his former instructors to focus the mind in such a way that using anticipated pain could rally your senses. Knowing Mister X's history with cage fighting, Danny knew that should he be pinned in a grapple that the ribs would provide an easy target and would likely be the first area Mister X would pound on. In advance of this he had reshaped his mental focus to anticipate the first rib cracking, using that sudden release of endorphins and adrenaline to invigorate his upper body strength.

Typically when grappling, when Mister X cracked someone's ribs he expected them to cry out in pain and for their arms to go slack. Therefore he shifted his weight forward, intending to capitalize on Danny loosening his defense and drive his next blow directly into his throat. He was therefore surprised when Iron Fist not only failed to weaken, but instead shifted his own weight under him and flip him over.

Mister X was shocked to see Iron Fist pass beneath him as he was catapulted up off of the hero, but quickly regained his composure, twisting in midair and landing on his feet. As he turned Iron Fist sprung up, spinning and already in a defensive stance, expecting another series of blows.

Pausing, Mister X said, "Your discipline is admirable."

"Thanks," Iron Fist shot back. "I work out."

"Do you really think you can defeat me with an injury? Especially when your friend is dying right next to you?"

Danny shot a glance at Cage, who was writhing on the ground, fighting against whatever Sing-Chu had thrown at him. He desperately wanted to aid his friend, but knew that to do so would be like signing his own death warrant. With someone like Mister X facing off against him, he had to be completely focused on what was directly in front of him.

"Something you should realize about Luke," Danny said as he took a few steps to one side. "Every time he gets knocked down he has this bad habit of getting right back up again."

"Then after I kill you I'll help him overcome that nasty pattern."

Mister X's hands slashed through the air, slicing mere centimeters from Danny's vital organs. Despite the pain in his side, Iron Fist bent and twisted, shifting his weight again and again. He spun several times as Mister X pressed forward with his strikes, building momentum and making sure to keep aware of his surroundings. The last thing he wanted was to bump into crates or the dynamo and be caught off guard.

After several chops that could have shattered him, Iron Fist finally saw his opening and took it. As Mister X lunged, instead of stepping backward again Danny stepped into the arc of his strike. Grabbing Mister X's wrist as it sliced by his face, he drove his thumb straight between Mister X's radius and ulna. The interosseous membrane broke and the appendage suddenly became useless.

Mister X retreated a step and cupped his wrist, but only for a brief moment. To his credit, he didn't shout out in pain either, but it no longer mattered. As he took the smallest of pauses to shift his weight and put his good side facing his opponent, Iron Fist back-spun toward him and drove his elbow into his chin. Two teeth popped out of Mister X's mouth before he hit the floor, unconscious.

"AH!" Cage roared.

Iron Fist looked over to see Cage crumple the bits of the disc that Sing-Chu had thrown at him, having just ripped it off of his own chest. There was fury in his eyes and he was seething with rage. He locked onto Danny and for a moment Iron Fist thought that Cage wasn't in his right mind again.

"Easy, Luke," Iron Fist said as he raised his hands, palms out. "Same side, bro. What did she do to you?"

Cage was struggling to catch his breath. "Some kind of repulser tech. It felt like the entire planet was sitting on my chest. It took everything I had to pry the damn thing off of me. God, I can't wait to get my hands on that girl."

But before they could advance into the warehouse, twin blasts of energy rocketed between them. Instinctively diving away from each other, the Heroes For Hire separated themselves so as not to leave easier targets for whoever was shooting at them.

Iron Fist took up position behind the knocked over crates as Cage pressed his back against the now operating dynamo. Cage peaked out first, saying, "Christmas…Dreadknight is back up again."

"Stand still!" the armored villain shouted as he peppered the dynamo with several more blasts from his lance.

"Luke," Danny shouted to get his friend's attention and then pointed at his feet. "Want to handle this one like we did with Cottonmouth back in the day?"

Cage looked down, seeing a large steel bolt that was used for something on the dynamo, possibly a spare coil anchor. It looked to weigh around a hundred pounds. "Yeah," he shot back. "Yeah, I think I do."

Smirking, Danny crouched down and then leapt straight up onto the crate's, drawing Dreadknight's fire. Searing blasts of energy roared by his as his nimbly leapt onto the highest crate and then across the gap to the dynamo.

Cage caught him perfect in his palm, with Iron Fist perched on one foot like a crane. With a roar and a little effort, Cage launched Iron Fist across the warehouse in a high arc over Dreadknight. The villain, distracted by what looked like an aerial attack, never even saw Cage hoist the massive bolt up and throw it directly at him.

He certainly felt it, though.

Iron Fist landed almost playfully on his feet a few yards behind Dreadknight, whose armor did little to protect him from a hundred pound piece of metal being thrown at fifty miles an hour. The impact alone shattered several of his ribs. Iron Fist made sure to check that he was still breathing before motioning to Luke to move on.

They rushed around a corner, but saw they needn't have bothered. Swearing profusely in Mandarin was Sing-Chu, bound by a hefty metal cable that Deathlok had wrapped her up in. Despite her protestations and the gravity of the situation, Iron Fist and Cage both couldn't help but laugh. Deathlok had hogtied their captor, making her appear as nonthreatening as possible.

"Hey, guys," Deathlok said as they approached. "All good?"

Cage clapped his hand with Deathlok's, saying, "Yeah, man. We good."

* * *

"—can't say how sorry I am, boys. Honestly."

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tony, it's okay. Seriously. You hired us to do a job and that's what we did."

Now aboard a private jet heading back to the United States, Luke and Danny could finally relax. They had turned Sing-Chu, Mister X, and Dreadknight over to the authorities, although Deathlok wasn't convinced they would stay out of the game for long. He thought about getting SHIELD involved, but as they had finished their assignment they decided to let him handle it. He knew the ins and outs of Madripor much better than they did these days.

Tony Stark didn't look satisfied on the video conference screen. "I hired you to protect my interests, but you did way more than that. You both put your lives on the line and ended up reclaiming a ton of my lost shipments. I honestly had no clue that Wong-Chu had a daughter, or that she would be harboring a grudge. I just assumed it was corporate pirates stealing my tech."

"Does that happen a lot?" Luke asked before inhaling a bag of potato chips from the plane's minibar.

"More than I'm comfortable with, but if I'm being honest, it's to be expected."

"How so?" Danny asked.

"Well, I mean…I'm Iron Man." The look on their faces was enough to tell Tony that he had more to explain. "I'm responsible for some of the most innovative technologies to ever exist. I'm also an Avenger. It's not enough to say I have a target on my back. It's more like I'm a walking beacon for trouble. Like Trump."

"Aaaaand we're done here," Danny said as he sat forward to end the call.

"Wait," Tony quickly said. "Seriously. Boys. Whatever you need, just let me know. I truly appreciate what you did for me."

Danny raised an eyebrow as he shot Cage a glance, who shrugged in return and then nodded. "Okay," Danny said. "Let's talk about you investing in Heroes For Hire."

* * *

"You're playing a dangerous game, Agent Travers."

John Aman, the Prince of Orphans, tread back and forth inside his glass cage. Had not the unfortunate circumstances of his life led him to being under the control of this man, he would gleefully use the Blade of the Dragon to cut out his heart.

The Blade, once infused to Danny Rand, was now his to control. He had planned on using it to advance his own agenda, but Travers had intervened. He felt the presence of the deadly weapon mingled within his chi even now, yearning to come out and strike. But now was not the time.

Travers smirked. They were in his office at the Commission on Superhuman Activities, although Aman was sure that is his compatriots knew what he was really up to he would be locked up in the Vault. Travers looked down on the glass bottle he had contained Aman inside and his smile broadened.

"I appreciate the concern," Travers replied, "but I can assure you that I have things well under my control. My sources tell me that both Rand and Cage are headed back to the United States as we speak. They're headed for Chicago, likely to Cage's apartment. When they get there, of course, they'll be in for a pleasant surprise."

"You're referring to the boy?"

"Victor Alvarez will succeed where you failed," Travers said. He stood up and tossed the papers he had been looking through carelessly on his desk, now more focused on the conversation. "But you'll back him up, of course. I'm not so stupid as to send an untested asset into the field."

"Like you did with Cage?"

"Yes…I suppose you want me to thank you for cleaning up after me? Might I remind you that you were supposed to kill Rand when you took the Blade from him?"*

 _* [PM & IF #3!]_

Aman turned away, unwilling to continue the pointless conversation. If he were to have any chance of ridding himself of Travers, he would do well to start thinking of his own machinations once more. He didn't know how to leverage both Iron Fist and Luke Cage against him yet, but he had faith that an opportunity would present itself.

"Mark my words," Travers continued. "Before the next full moon we will both have our hearts' desires. You will have K'un Lun and I will have access to ultimate power!"

 _ **NEXT ISSUE:**_ _The rematch of Iron Fist versus the Prince of Orphans! Plus, Cage comes face to face with his own past as the boys are thrown into the brawl of their lives. Travers puts the boys through the ringer, but what is his ultimate goal?_


	7. Out of the Past: Part One

**Power Man & Iron Fist #7**

" **Out of the Past: Part One"**

 **Written by D. Golightly**

"This beating is long overdue," Luke Cage said.

Cage cracked his knuckles while he waited for Danny Rand, his partner in heroics, to step out of the passenger seat of his black Dodge Charger. Taxi cabs, busses, and other vehicles roared by them without giving them pause, not exactly reckless with pedestrians so close to the lanes, but not exactly caring how close they were either. That was Chicago. In L. A., the traffic would just grind along. In New York City, the traffic would run you down. In Chicago, it was just part of the background.

That was one thing Cage always loved about this town, and one of the main reasons he had tried to establish himself here over the last few years. Whether it was playing alongside Danny, Monica, or whoever else was on the Heroes For Hire squad, or just on his own as private security, Cage felt like he fit right in. He was part of the cityscape here.

It didn't matter that Luke looked like he had been dropped by an elephant. It didn't matter that Danny had lacerations on his neck and a goose egg-sized welt forming on his forehead. They were just part of the city.

"Let's get some answers before we smash his face in," Danny replied. His green and yellow Iron Fist uniform had been too slashed up to wear for this confrontation. "And we would have taken care of this by now had we not been contracted to babysit Stark's latest toy."*

 _* [In PM & IF #4]_

"Or been jumped by Travers lackeys," Luke replied.

Danny nodded at the towering skyscraper before them. The behemoth office building was located in downtown Chicago and was home to numerous franchises, departments, branch locations, and even a local bank. Despite the several hundred people that went through their daily paper-pushing in the Dormont Building, however, Luke and Danny were only interested in one person.

"Luke," Danny said. "About what the kid said. About what he claimed."

Cage waved him off. "Later. We'll catch up with him soon. Right now the only thing I'm interested in is knocking the teeth out of our boy upstairs."

As they entered the main lobby and headed toward the main elevator bank, Danny said, "I tried to look into him, but he's got a smokescreen so thick it would take a hurricane to get any clarity. I asked a friend of a friend, who's connected to Valerie Cooper, to get us the skinny on this guy, but he's like a ghost."

"So you said on the way here. Does that mean he doesn't actually work for the Commission on Superhuman Activity?"

"Not necessarily." They entered an elevator among the bank that would take them to the top third of the building, and Danny pressed the button for the correct floor per the tenant index they passed in the lobby. "The Commission is just like any other government agency. They all have restricted personnel of one sort of another."

"I don't care if he's the President's brother," Luke shot back. "He could have the security clearance of God for all I care. The guy hypnotized me and put a subliminal command in my head to kill you on sight."*

 _* [The first three issues, but there was a little more to it than that!]_

"Oh, I'm not calling him a saint. I'm just saying he's a total mystery to us. Before we make him unable to talk, let's get some info out of him first. Like, why the hell is he so crazed on killing us?"

The elevator chimed their arrival at the correct floor and the doors slid open. Luke ground his teeth and took half a step out before Danny put his hand on one of Luke's biceps to hold him back for a second. Luke looked at the hand and traced the arm back to Danny's face.

"Luke," Danny said. "Seriously."

Luke flashed him an award-winning smile. "I got you, bro."

Then he stepped into the small waiting area, picked up a lounge chair in one hand, and tossed it into the closed doorway with a sign on it that read 'COMMISSION LIAISON – TRAVERS.'

* * *

 _ **Two Hours Ago…**_

"All I'm saying it take what Stark tells you with a grain of salt," Luke stated.

Danny stretched as he rose out of the his seat aboard the charter jet. The long flight had been tiring, despite the few hours of sleep they had stolen during the trip. Coming all the way from Madripor to Chicago wasn't something either of them would do again anytime soon, not just because of the extended flight. Their ears were still ringing from the skirmish with Mr. X, Dreadknight, and the Daughter of the Warlord, Sing-Chu.*

 _* [Last ish]_

"You think I was wrong to broker a deal for Stark to fund Heroes For Hire?" Danny asked. "I just figured I would strike while the iron was hot. He was grateful to us for recovering all of the tech that had been stolen from him. It seemed like a good opportunity."

Cage slid his small bag out of the overhead compartment, saying, "Danny, last week I ate nothing but canned soup. I'll take Stark's money no problem. Plus, if our business is up and running again, that's a big thumbs-up from me. But all you did was get a hollow promise from a business man. I was with you until he started talking about running everything by his lawyers."

The pair exited the jet, happy to be back on firm ground once more. After a quick check at customs and a long explanation to security about their business in Madripor, the pair finally managed to get to the long-term parking lot and slide into Luke's Charger.

After a long silence, Danny finally said, "Think I could get Misty to come back?" Luke gave him a long sideways glance with eyes raised that spoke volumes. "Right. Bad idea."

"It's the biggest of bad ideas," Luke countered. "Bro…you cheated on her. With another black woman.* Do you have any idea how long a black woman can hold a grudge, let alone two of them?"

 _* [Back in the H4H series hosted here at M2K!]_

Danny tossed his hands up in defense. "Hey, I'm only human."

"You're lucky I'm your friend, Danny," Luke replied. "I think any other man would think you were a total scumbag. But I know you better than that."

After parking in the sublevel garage of his apartment building in uptown Chicago, Luke and Danny retrieved their bags from the truck and made their way upstairs. The building was old and the elevator was consistently on the fritz, but the quick ascent didn't bother either of the heroes.

"We always talk about my love life," Danny said as Luke slipped his key into his apartment's door. "What about you?"

Luke scoffed. "Bro, ain't no woman that has an interest in a freelance hero."

"Your double negatives aside—"

 _WHAM!_

The door exploded outward in a haze of splinters and shrapnel, throwing Danny back against the hallway wall. Caught off guard, Luke backpedaled out of the way and tossed a quick look at his partner to make sure he wasn't injured.

Seeing that he was okay, Luke dropped his bag and dove through the now open doorway, tucking into a roll and coming up a few feet inside the apartment. He quickly surveyed the scene and locked eyes with his much younger assailment just as he was grabbed around the collar and tossed overhand through the apartment.

Luke's nearly indestructible body blasted through the sparse furniture like a wrecking ball, smashing a dining table and two chairs. Luke was up again in an instant, but his aggressor was on top of him just as fast.

"My apartment can't take getting trashed again," Luke said. "You picked the wrong house to rob, kid!"

The attacker, who had dark skin and looked to be in his late teens or early 20s, slapped his hands around Luke's collar again, fully intending to carry out the same throw again. While Luke wasn't the master hand-to-hand combatant that his partner was, he had been in enough straight brawls to know a thing or two. He brought both arms up inside the grip and pushed his wrists against the kid's forearms, putting his incredible strength behind the countermove. From there he could reverse the hold, pick the guy up in a similar fashion, and toss him instead of being tossed himself.

…except that Luke's strength instantly vanished the moment his skin touched the younger man's.

The kid replicated his prior throw, sending Cage smashing through the kitchen counter in the open floor plan. What surprised Luke even more than his apparent lack of his signature strength, was the blood now streaming down his face from a scalp laceration.

Seeking the crimson color streak on his hands when he tried to wipe it away, he was momentarily shocked. Taking the opportunity that was handed to him, the youth leap across the apartment, closing the fifteen foot gap between them in a single bound, and gripped Luke yet again.

This time the kid drove his face straight down into the floor, smashing his nose. Stunned, Luke was beginning to feel woozy for the first time since his prison days. With his power set had come an amazing fortitude and sense of endurance, all of which had now vanished.

On his knees and his head pulled back, Luke say the kid cock his first back for what was obviously a killing blow. There was nothing in his face to betray emotion, nothing but a blank look indicating his total willingness to murder.

"Stop!" Danny shouted as he burst back into the apartment.

He slipped his forearm behind the kid's elbow and yanked back hard, pulling him off balance. The kid stumbled and Danny quickly spun around, driving his own elbow into the kid's chest. The kid rallied, however, and came back at Danny with his arms swinging.

Ducking and weaving between the strikes, he realized he would need to use his legendary technique to end the fight as quickly as possible. He had never seen Cage busted up like this before. He might even need medical attention. Time was now of the essence.

Thankfully, years of discipline meant he could summon the necessary focus in an instant. Within a mere moment Danny's hand was transformed, encased in his own chi, and converting it unto a thing of iron.

…except that all of his summoned power was drained away when the kid caught his fist in midair.

The kid lashed back with a haymaker across Danny's jaw, which sent him reeling. Moreover, the kid had somehow taken more than just his concentrated chi energy. He had drained him of his resilience inner strength. It was like his life force had been siphoned off somehow.

A knee to his gut and a double-fisted strike to the back of his neck dropped him to the floor. The kid stood over him, looking between him and Luke, as if he was struggling to come to a conclusion. After a long and tense moment, the kid reached down and tried to grab Danny by his collar.

"I don't know who the hell you are," Luke Cage said, "but you about to find out you messed with the wrong crowd!"

The kid looked up just in time to see a cast iron skillet pound into his face. The strike was decimating and could have killed anyone that hadn't shown the concentrated strength that their assailant already had. The momentum of the hit spun him halfway around and he then fell back into a pair of stools that had been positioned at the kitchen counter. He hit the apartment floor, apparently out cold.

"Danny," Luke muttered as he reached to help his friend up. "You aight?"

Danny shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs. "Yeah. Just peachy." He glanced down at the unconscious kid. "Any idea who he is?"

"None. He suck away your strength, too?"

Danny nodded. "Never felt anything like that before, except for…"

Luke was wiping the blood off of his face with a kitchen towel, thankful that the laceration had cauterized enough to stop bleeding. "Except for when?"

Danny looked up from the kid directly into Luke's eyes. "Except for when you tried to kill me. When he drained away the iron fist technique, our chi connected. It was just like when my chi mingled with John Aman. I touched his consciousness for a brief moment. Luke, I think this guy is being mind controlled just like—"

"Travers." Luke spat out the name, lacing it with distaste. "That explains the stupid look on his face. You're saying Travers sent him to kill us?"

"I'm saying that we need to know more."

Two minutes later they had the kid strapped to Luke's one and only office chair with several titanium coils he kept at home for calisthenics. The alloy had been reshaped by a friend of his that ran the gym at the Unlimited Class Wrestling Federation and was guaranteed to give someone with Luke's strength a good work out. It would also serve as an ad hoc way to keep the kid tied up until they could get some answers out of him.

"Okay," Danny said as he stood over the kid. "Here goes nothing."

Danny once again summoned his life force, his chi, to filter through his body and manifest in the physical world. His fist began to glow once more, although this time it took him a few seconds longer than he would have preferred. He took an extra moment to focus and then placed his palm against the kid's forehead, connecting with one of his chakra points.

"Yeah," Danny said with his eyes closed. "Definitely the same connection I've felt before. Travers had his hooks in this kid's brain. Let me see if I can sever the—AH!"

Danny stepped away just as the kid sat up straight, or at least as far as the coils would allow him. Luke and Danny both tensed for a moment as the coils strained under the pressure he exerted, but ultimately settled when it seemed he would be unable to break free.

"Easy, kid," Cage said, ready for another brawl.

"Easy?" the kid questioned. He looked over both Luke and Danny, and then down at his restraints. "What's going on? Who are…" His attention snapped back to Luke and he said, "Ah, crap."

Luke's eyes opened wider. "Do we know each other?"

"Uh…not really."

Danny raised a placating hand. "Just relax for a minute. Tell us what you last remember?"

"I was picked up by some…can't believe I'm saying this…ninjas. They grabbed me and this dude was holding me hostage or something. Then everything went white. Now I'm here." He looked down at the coils. "Mind letting me out of this?"

"Not a chance," Cage replied. "Are you a mutant or something?"

"Huh?"

"You got powers, kid. How did you get them?"

"Oh." He looked around the apartment, like an answer might jump out and strike him. He avoided eye contact with the both of them as he spoke. "I was kind of born with them. I guess I'm a mutant. I never really thought of myself as one, though. I mean, it's not like I'm deformed or something. I don't stand out."

"What exactly can you do?" Danny asked. "When our skin connected with yours, it was like you could drain away our strength."

The kid nodded. "I stole your chi. I convert it into physical strength. Don't worry; it's not permanent. I just use it to get me out of trouble."

"Well, now it's gotten you trouble," Luke added. "The guy who kidnapped you: his name is Travers and he sent you here to kill us. Any idea why he would pull you in particular to send our way?"

He blatantly hesitated, his mouth hanging open, causing Luke and Danny to trade looks. He squirmed slightly, but this time more from apparent discomfort than from being held down.

"Cough it up, kid," Luke finally said. "We don't have any beef with you. You were being mind controlled before, but it looks like Danny snapped you out of it with his mysticism stuff."

"It's not mysticism, Luke," Danny whispered.

"Not now, bro," Luke whispered back, and then more loudly at their prisoner, he said, "Let's start with your name."

"You…want to know my name?"

Luke nodded.

"Victor," the kid replied. "Victor Alvarez."

"Okay, Victor, that's a start," Luke replied. "How old are you?"

"I'm…eighteen."

"Where are you from?"

"Hell's Kitchen. I live on the east side, with my mom. She's Dominican. She says that's the only part of town where she fits in."

"But you keep a low profile?" Danny asked

Victor nodded, but he maintained eye contact with Luke. "My mom didn't want me getting wrapped up in this superhero garbage."

"So, why would Travers ever think to send you, a kid from the Kitchen with no real experience in this kind of thing, up against us?" Danny inquired and turned to Luke. "It makes no sense. Maybe it's misdirection?

"Maybe there's more to the story," Luke responded.

"Maybe I'm your son," Victor blurted out.

For the second time that day, Luke felt like he had been hit by a truck. He felt his stomach drop out and even with his returning strength he could have been pushed right back over. Danny's brow furrowed and he stared at Victor, unclear on what exactly was happening.

"Luke, do you—" Danny started to say.

"What's your mother's name?" Luke asked.

"Reina."

Luke shook his head, trying to think of an explanation that fit better than the obvious. He almost didn't want to believe what was right in front of his eyes, but as he stared at Victor he could see the resemblance with his mother, Reina Alvarez, a woman he had known a lifetime ago.

"This can't be happening," he finally muttered.

"Look, I never came to you for anything," Victor spat out. "My mom…well, she didn't want me getting into that superhero crap, right? So…she kept me off your radar."

"She never told me," Luke stated.

"She never wanted to," Victor shot back. There was an air of aggression lacing his words, like he didn't want to speak but he couldn't help himself. "It's hard enough being Afro-Dominican without everyone in the 'hood knowing your dad is not only an ex-con, but a superhero, too. We don't need you."

"Sweet Christmas," Luke muttered, and he finally broke eye contact with Victor. He crossed his massive arms over his chest, trying to collect his thoughts and finding that he just couldn't do it.

"Okay," Danny said after a moment of silence. "Let's just back up a bit."

"I met up with Reina right before I went to prison," Luke said. "I was Carl Lucas back then. I was just a punk kid. God, I can't believe this. Your mom was beautiful and we just hit it off right away, you know? Then I went to jail. I made so many idiot mistakes back then."

"Like me?" Victor stated, his eyes narrow.

Luke spun on him. "I never said that. This is crazy. I don't even know you! I can't…I just can't—"

Danny stepped between them. "Alright. That's enough. We'll figure this out, but first we need to take care of some things first. Like, what are we going to do with Travers?"

Luke glanced at Victor, found that he couldn't hold his gaze any longer, and then turned away. "I'll tell you what we're going to do," Luke said. "We're going to finish this. Tonight."

* * *

 _ **Now…**_

Travers' doorway burst inward, doing very little to stop the lounge chair that Cage had thrown. Splinters of wood and bits of glass covered the floor as Cage, his strength and determination now fully restored, almost casually walked into the set of offices.

"Anybody home?" he asked as he cracked his knuckles.

Iron Fist stepped in beside him, scoping the scene. An empty secretary desk had been knocked ajar from Luke's entrance. A potted plant in the corner had been knocked over. Opposite the desk was a large printer and a few filing cabinets, but otherwise the room was completely empty.

Another closed door faced them, beckoning them to come into the interior office. Danny held up a hand to stop Cage from ripping apart the next doorway, and he cautiously stepped forward and tried his luck at simply turning the knob. The door lock clicked and the entrance slid open.

Iron Fist mock bowed at Cage, ushering him to enter the empty interior office. Another desk, another potted plant, a TV mounted on the wall, and another filing cabinet. No Travers.

What they did see that instantly brought them on guard, however, was a tiny man trapped inside a glass orb sitting on the desk. Iron Fist leaned down and squinted at the captive man, who was only a few inches tall.

"John Aman?" Iron Fist said. "What the hell is going on?"

The Prince of Orphans looked up at them, smug and unyielding. "Hello, Daniel," he said. "I see you brought your accomplice along. It's about time you showed up."

"Aman?" Cage asked as he stepped closer. "The guy that jumped me using your body? Or whatever he did with your chi. Ha! Travers shrink you down, huh?"

Aman narrowed his gaze and crossed his arms in irritation. "Hardly. I am his own personal genie, for lack of a better analogy. But that is of little concern of yours."

The boys traded looks. "Why is that?" Iron Fist inquired, but Aman only smiled beneath his green hood.

The trademark high-pitched and momentary flip of electricity coursing through a freshly turned on TV broke the silence. They turned to the wall-mounted television, seeing a hard-boiled man with blonde hair, a chiseled jaw, and blue eyes.

"Travers, I presume," Cage said with a growl. "What's the matter? Afraid to come give us the office tour in person?"

"Oh, I'm nearby, but fortunately for you I have preparations to make elsewhere."

"Enough of the cat and mouse bullshit!" Cage hollered. "Let's finish this! I don't know what your beef is with the both of us, but it's time we hashed it out. You send me to kill Danny, then the genie in a bottle over here, and now this Victor kid to kill us both!" He got close to the screen, his anger seething off of him. " _Just tell us what the hell you want!_ "

Wisps of green smoke lingered around them, but their attention was purely focused on Travers digital image that it went unnoticed until it was too late. With a sickening snap, the smoke congealed around their arms and legs, solidifying into green cloth. They were hefted off the ground and pulled apart, and even though both of them struggled they were both held captive.

Their eyes trailed the cloth back to the source, seeing a fully enlarged John Aman standing before them, the folds of his cloak lashed around their appendages. "We want two things from you," Aman said. "We already have one of them."

With a wave of his arm, and practiced concentration, a spike of yellow energy formed inside his fist. The spike grew and elongated until it resembled a sword, at which point the energy died away, leaving behind the Blade of the Dragon, the very same mystical weapon that had been bonded to Iron Fist and since stolen by Aman.

"You spurned this gift," Aman said to Iron Fist. "It is the key to overtaking K'un Lun, and you _spurned_ it! I helped forge it, you know. Years ago. Decades. A lifetime ago. Why did you even bother taking it from Chiantang in the first place? ***** Because of that I question whether or not you are entitled to bear the technique of your namesake, but it is moot now.

 _ *****_ _[Danny discovered the weapon in Chiantang's citadel in M2K's Heroes For Hire #10!]_

Aman moved closer to the struggling heroes, bringing the tip of the Blade close to Iron Fist's chin. "Your chi has mingled with your friend here many times over. It's why you are such close acquaintances. You feel that bond lingering subconsciously. It begets loyalty and devotion. It is also stronger together than apart. Because of this shared inner strength, by using both of your life forces I will be able to use the Blade as a key back to the ancient city."

"Danny," Cage said, "what the Sam Hill is this guy going on about?"

"They want to kill us with the Blade," Iron Fist replied as he struggled, "because doing so will somehow grant them access to K'un Lun."

" _Bravo!_ " Travers' digital representation said from the TV now behind them. He clapped, mockingly. "But not just access, my friend. No, no, no. _Control_."

"The Blade of the Dragon isn't just the key to the city, Daniel," the Prince of Orphans said. "It's the _keystone of_ the city."

John Aman reveled in the moment, slowly drawing the weapon back to deliver a killing blow. In his eyes Iron Fist could see desperation mixed with ecstasy, marking him as a man with nothing to lose and everything to gain. The only thing standing in his way of complete gratification was the beating hearts of Daniel Rand and Luke Cage.

The Prince of Orphans raised the Blade over his head, and swung it down with precision…

 _ **NEXT ISSUE:**_ _Yowsers! The boys have gotten themselves in real hot water this time! The truth about Agent Travers will finally be revealed as our heroes fight to not only save themselves, but multiple dimensions!_


	8. Out of the Past: Part Two

**Power Man & Iron Fist #8**

" **Out of the Past: Part Two"**

"The Blade of the Dragon isn't just the key to the city, Daniel," the Prince of Orphans said. "It's the _keystone_ of the city."

John Aman reveled in the moment, slowly drawing the weapon back to deliver a killing blow. Danny Rand, the living weapon known as the Iron Fist, had blundered into the office of Agent Travers of the Commission on Superhuman Activities, and was now pinned down alongside Luke Cage. The pair of heroes had been sent after each other, mind-controlled, and targeted and they still had no real idea of why.

Having been separated from the Blade by the Prince of Orphans himself _*_ , Danny was in part grateful that this chaotic mess was finally coming to a close. He just wished that it didn't involve his life once again hanging in the balance – quite literally, as he and Cage dangled at the ends of the mystic green cloth that Aman suspended them by in Travers' office.

 _*[Power Man & Iron Fist #3]_

In Aman's eyes, Iron Fist could see desperation mixed with ecstasy, marking him as a man with nothing to lose and everything to gain. The only thing standing in his way of complete gratification was the beating hearts of Daniel Rand and Luke Cage. Due to their close adventures over the years, and their consistent mingling of chi, Danny and Luke were deeply bonded. According to Aman, when he cut out their hearts it would unlock the power he so viciously sought.

The Prince of Orphans raised the Blade over his head, and swung it down with precision, the steel look in his eyes tempered by the lust of ultimate power.

But if the boys had learned anything over the years, it was that history was doomed to repeat itself. The best way to keep that from happening was to place trust in others, counting on them to pull through when you needed them to, regardless of their own motivations. Danny and Luke had both been part of teams over the years and knew the value of back-up. Even though he was knew to them, they decided to place their trust into the new kid on the block.

Just before the Blade sliced down into Danny's chest, the office wall exploded inward. A dark-skinned teenager burst through, empowered by borrowed chi that in turn bolstered his strength, endurance, and resolve. Victor Alvarez smashed through the office wall like it was paper mâché, bowling over Aman and knocking the Blade from his hands.

"That's how we roll!" he shouted. The teen brushed himself off, smiled, and threw a right-cross at Aman's stunned visage.

But the Prince of Orphans, himself a master of the martial arts, easily countered the blow and struck Victor across the chin. The smack was quickly followed up by three jabs to the teen's chest, causing him to double over and stumble backward into the office.

"Move!" Cage yelled, his adrenaline fueled by both fear and aggression. It was a command and a plea, directed at Danny.

Cage tore at his bonds, yanking a bit of slack into the fabric to get close enough to Aman to wrap his arms around his neck. He pulled upward and Aman rose, held a foot off the ground as Cage's forearm crushed his windpipe. With the bonds under Aman's control now loosened, Danny slipped to the floor and scooped up the Blade, even though he detested feeling it in his hands again.

"Stop!" Travers screamed. Mounted on the wall was a video-conference screen with his angered face splashed in the center. "Aman! Contain them!"

Aman twisted and struggled beneath Cage's chokehold. In their struggle they smashed against the screen, destroying it and Travers' visual into their brawl. He sneered as he pulled at the powerful arm wrapped around his neck, seeing Danny holding the sword again. He knew that the Blade, a weapon he had helped forge in the first place, could unlock total power over the mystical city of K'un Lun. Invigorated by the closeness of his victory, Aman raised up and redoubled his efforts to free himself.

Until Victor placed his palm against Aman's chest, sapping his very life force away.

Aman crumbled, bending inward as Cage held him in place. Aman's physical form, once strong and powerful, ravaged itself and the binding that Travers had placed over him again took shape. The Prince of Orphans shrunk down and his corporeal being converted into thick green smoke, which was in turn sucked back into the container that had been on Travers' desk. It lay on its side on the floor now, battered but intact. Within moments the weakened Aman had been forced to return to his prison, a shadow of his former self.

Cage looked down at the pale, three-inch tall figure in the container and smirked. Then he looked down at broken screen and said, "You're next, little man."

Victor stood wide-eyed and unmoving, just staring at the shattered screen, finally saying, "I remember that guy. He's the one that's got a ton of ninjas working for him! It's just like you told me, isn't it?"

Cage nodded. "We think he's a rogue Commission liaison, but we still don't know what the hell he's doing targeting us like this."

Danny leaned down and picked up the container with Aman inside, holding it close. "John," Danny said. "Tell us what's happening. Your plan to control K'un Lun is all but over."

"Travers has me bound," Aman replied. "What could I possibly have to gain by helping you now?"

Danny studied the container carefully, turning it slightly in his hand. "I could get you out of this mess, that's for sure."

"We ain't helping him!" Cage shouted as he brushed by Victor to get closer to the container. "He's tried to kill us at least twice!"

Danny ignored Cage, instead focusing only on Aman. "Tell us what Travers is up to and why you're partnered with him. Tell us…and I'll help send you back to K'un Lun."

"Danny!" Cage yelled.

A sly smile crept across Aman's face and he looked into Danny's eyes. "And what possibly reason should I have to believe you? Why would you give me the prize I desire most?"

Danny casually flipped the Blade around in his fingers in the hand that wasn't holding the container up to eye level. "You're defeated, John. Done for. We have nothing else to fear from you now that you've dropped the Blade of the Dragon. However, I'm willing to let the masters at K'un Lun take you off my hands. It's a win-win. You'll be out of our hair for good and you'll be one step closer to your own goal."

"You would banish me from this world, then?"

Danny nodded. "Make no mistake – I'm not handing you the keys to the city…or _keystone_ as it were. You'll answer for your crimes, but you'll be out from under Travers' thumb, too."

Victor traded glances between Luke and Danny, feeling the intensity coming off of the former toward the latter. He stepped back just as Luke reached out and grabbed the container, shaking it slightly and knocking John Aman over.

"If we ever see you again, pipsqueak," Cage said through ground teeth. "All bets are off."

The Prince of Orphans sneered. "I would expect no less. The feeling, as they say, is mutual. Now, heed my warning of the one you call Travers, because his own history is as chaotic as this temporary pact between us."

"Y'all talk weird," Victor muttered, but they ignored him, instead focusing on Aman's next words.

"Travers," Aman began, "is not his real name. He adopted it and the guise to go with it. In fact, he is very familiar to the one you encountered in the swamp prior to our first meeting." _*_

 _* [Power Man & Iron Fist #2]_

"You mean that man-thing in the Everglades?" Luke spat out. "How's he connected to this?"

"Travers' name was originally Hargood Wilbur Todd Wickham, a scientist hired by an enemy of that swamp creature, who was obsessed with conquering the mysteries of dimensional travel. The Blade of the Dragon, the Everglades, us…we are all connected to the larger scheme at play."

"But Stephen Strange is the one sent me to the Everglades in the first place," Danny retorted.

"Yes, to the Nexus of All Realities. The Sorcerer Supreme was correct in sending you to the Nexus, or rather, to me. Did I not separate you from your burden?" Aman looked longingly at the Blade in Danny's grip. "Wickham, or as he's also know, Professor Slaughter, approached me after faking his death because he had learned of my connection to the mystical city. He wants for nothing more than to come out from the shadow of his former employer and unlock dimensional travel for himself. To him, it is the ultimate power that the Nexus keeps from him. He hoped that by collecting the sword with me that our mutual goal would be attained – me controlling K'un Lun and him gaining access to an avenue through the universe that did not directly tie to the Nexus or its guardian."

Cage said, "So Travers, or Slaughter, or whoever he is did all this to avoid that swamp monster?"

Aman nodded. "He is a powerful foe. Slaughter's continued pursuit of dimensional travel would forever be halted unless he could find a way to circumnavigate the monster. I was the key to his success, in exchange for the Blade and rule over K'un Lun."

"Slaughter makes you this deal and you help to serve us up on a platter?" Cage asked. "Danny, we owe this guy nothing!"

"Where is Travers now?" Danny inquired.

"This office was merely to maintain his façade of a Commission liaison. His base of operations is uptown in a place you'll both find quite familiar. I'll take you there on one condition: you send me to the mystic city _tonight_. Keep your promise to me and remove me from under Slaughter's foot!"

Victor had leaned back against the wall, content to watch the conversation unfold. He was baffled; completely lost in whatever it was they were talking about. He understood that they were making a deal of some sort, but what he didn't understand was why they would give a guy that had just tried to kill them anything he wanted. Maybe he was too young to really get it, or maybe he was just mirroring the stance of Luke, his biological father. Either way, he wanted to stay out of it.

He had agreed to come to Travers' office as their wild card because he wanted that scumbag to get what was coming to him. All the better if he was the one throwing the punches. His mother hadn't raised him to be a brawler, but it just came naturally to him.

Luke and Danny traded another glance, and Danny finally said, "Deal."

He tossed the container to Victor, who caught it clumsily and nearly dropped it. He buckled his knees and looked apprehensively between the miniature psychopath and the heroic partners. "What the hell am I supposed to do with him?"

"You have no obligation to help us," Danny said to Victor, but he eyed Luke as he spoke. "But we could use it. If you're up for it, I have any idea to finish this once and for all."

Luke pulled his gaze off of Danny, his friend and partner for years, to look at Victor. He didn't know if Victor really was his son like he claimed, but somehow, someway, he knew that there was a connection between them. He had never been a father figure before and he wasn't sure he really wanted to be one now. What he did know was that this kid had the same kind of arrogant drive that had been part of his life over a decade ago.

Did he really want not just a kid getting put in harm's way, but one that he was probably related to? What kind of dad would he be if he allowed his son to face supervillains and be put in danger all the time?

Victor tried to read Luke's expression for some help in deciphering what was happening. They had no relationship to speak of, outside of what had developed over the last two hours, but already Victor was looking to Luke for insight.

Luke shrugged. He said, "It's your call, kid."

Victor thought about how helpless he had felt when Travers' cronies had jumped him, how aggravating it was to avoid getting involved in the street gangs' business on his way home from school, and how his mom had taught him to just keep his mouth in check so he didn't bring any unwanted attention to them. He tightened his grip on the container and without further hesitation said, "Let's bust this guy up."

# # # # # # # # # #

The proximity alarm went off, filling the control center with an annoying blare. Professor Slaughter, still in his guise as Agent Travers, motioned for one of the monitoring lackeys to shut it off and bring up the security feed. Outside of the circle of destruction that had once been the headquarters of the Heroes For Hire in uptown Chicago, four figures had approached his hidden compound.

He let out a snarky laugh, surprised to see them, but happy nonetheless. Bound by restrictive cuffs that looked thick enough to hold an elephant in place were Luke Cage, the incorrigible Power Man, and his partner, Daniel Rand, the slippery Iron Fist. Standing behind each one were his two agents of chaos, John Aman and Victor Alvarez. He couldn't help but smile when he saw Victor kick the back of the knee of his own father, knocking him down and seemingly devoid of emotion.

He had won. Aman and Alvarez had succumbed to his control and were finally bringing his prizes to him. He couldn't wait to hear their own hollow threats, especially now that they realized his own base of operations was in the subbasement of their former home.

Months ago, a lone villain calling himself Anarchy had decimated the H4H's former headquarters, leaving behind a pile of rubble that was all but useless. Slaughter had seen the opportunity to not only hide away where they would least suspect to look for him, but also use the back-up database records found there to help in his quest to learn more about Luke and Danny.

It had been the perfect cover to go alongside his subterfuge of the Commission. Now that he finally had his prey in his grasp, his plans were coming to fruition.

"Collect them," he said absently to his staff.

Instantly, four of his psychically-controlled soldiers rushed off to enact his orders. He watched on the monitors as a segment of rubble was lifted away by a hydraulic press, allowing his minions to seemingly burst out of nowhere. They flanked Aman and Victor, along with the captured heroes, and ushered them inside.

The sublevel of the H4H's once glorious training center was the only thing that hadn't been destroyed. The remainder of the necessary demolition had already taken place topside, leaving what amounted to a landfill behind that had yet to be swept away. He couldn't help but smile as he saw Luke and Danny realize where they were in person. His soldiers deposited them and stood back, their weapons trained on the captured heroes.

"Welcome," he said with a flourish of his hands. "Or should I say, welcome back?"

"Figures you would be hiding down here in the basement," Luke said. "Like a damn cockroach."

"How the mighty have fallen, _Power Man_ ," Slaughter quipped. "I suppose I no longer have a need for this Travers' nonsense anymore. I assume that you blew my cover with your assault at the Commission office."

He tapped a holographic projector on his belt and his features were replaced with those of a man in his sixties, complete with long brown hair instead of Travers' short blonde locks. His cheeks were now more sunken in, giving him a more desperate appearance. His eyes darted back and forth in his eagerness to collect his prize.

The prize being access to the multitude of dimensions beyond their own. For years he had worked beneath another would-be villain, hopelessly fighting against that horrid creature that protected the Nexus. He knew that he was destined to conquer interdimensional travel and claim the spoils that would go with such power, and now it was so close he could taste it.

Having faked his death and used his psychic technology to subvert a support team of his own, he was finally in control of his own destiny. Professor Slaughter would be a name feared throughout the multiverse.

"Fitting that you end your lives here," Slaughter said. "Whereas mine will be beginning anew." He looked up at Aman, saying, "Kill them and open the gateway. Take me to my Valhalla and you will be free to control your precious mystic city."

John Aman raised his arm and summoned the Blade of the Dragon once more. A green mist formed around his hand, lengthening to the shape of the Blade, and then it quickly condensed into solid matter. Luke and Danny kneeled before him with Victor standing at their side, seemingly unaware of what was unfolding before him.

"Are all of your goons down here with you?" Danny asked.

Slaughter shot him an irritated glance. "Still think you can escape? My warriors would collapse on you within moments. Your time is over, _Iron Fist_."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Danny nodded to Victor and leapt up on the balls of his feet and several things happened at the same time, throwing the controlled situation on its side. The cuffs holding Danny and Luke's arms back evaporated just as John Aman brought his wrists together in a ring of crimson energy. Victor cocked his fist back and smashed his knuckles into Slaughter's forehead, sending him scooting back across basement until he slammed into the wall.

Woozy, Slaughter tried to straighten up just as he saw his warriors descend on the heroes. Of course, he had been tricked. He chided himself for being so eager to collect his prize that he had just assumed that appearances were just as they seemed to be. Victor's mind control must have worn off. No matter, regardless of how they had thwarted Aman as well he would stop them again.

"Kill them!" he shouted, but he quickly realized that there was no one left standing to give orders to. Shockingly, the few lackeys he had in the basement were already down for the count and the rest were not coming to his aid. "What? What have you done! Aman!"

"The Prince of Orphans will not be coming to your rescue," John Aman said, or rather, the man impersonating Aman said. "He has accepted a better offer."

With a wave of his hand, the green cloak and features of John Aman were gone, replaced in a similar fashion to what Travers' himself had done. Instead of holographic technology concealing his true identity, however, it was pure magic that had hidden away the face of Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme. Slaughter noticed the crimson bands around Strange's wrists and saw how the same magical constructs had been bound around the appendages of his fallen warriors. Between Strange's magic and the quick strikes of Danny and Luke, his forces were defeated.

"No!" Slaughter shouted.

"Yes," Luke said. "Your boy in the green hood is going to be sent on a one way trip to another dimension…without _you_. Courtesy of your friendly, neighborhood sorcerer."

"And I've severed your control over Victor," Danny added. "Aman told us where you were holed up, and Dr. Strange was more than happy to land a role in our little play."

"Excellent casting," Strange quipped, and he lashed out another crimson band that wrapped itself around Slaughter's upper body.

The frustration and rage was boiling within him, but Slaughter was once again powerless to do anything other than strain against the magical bindings. His anger doubled at the sight of his enemies gloating over him and he swore that should he ever free himself again that they would pay with more than just their lives.

# # # # # # # # # #

"Thanks, Stephen," Danny said. "We appreciate your help tonight."

The pink visage of the Sorcerer Supreme, Stephen Strange, hovered silently before the trio of heroes. Three feet off of the ground, he looked at peace with his legs crossed and his cape flowing out behind him. If it wasn't for the pinkish hue of the astral projection, they would swear that he was in Luke's apartment alongside them.

"Thank nothing of it, Daniel," Strange replied. "I am always at your service when it comes to banishing people like John Aman. The reinforcement of the binding placed on him should keep Aman out of trouble and in the control of K'un Lun's masters for years to come."

"And the Blade of the Dragon?" Danny asked.

Strange nodded. "It has been contained as well. It will not be used for nefarious purposes again. I bid you good night."

The astral form of the world's most powerful sorcerer faded away, leaving Luke, Danny, and Victor along in the apartment's living room once more. An eerie silence fell over them. It had only been a few hours since SHIELD had arrived to take care of the cleanup uptown, but it already felt like a lifetime ago. Now the adrenaline had stopped flowing, the heart's had stopped racing, and the adventure had come to a close.

"Do you have to get home soon?" Luke asked, facing Victor.

The teenager leaned back against the counter that separated the living room from the kitchenette. He looked down at his feet, seemingly unsure of how to tread this conversation. "Not yet," he responded.

Something chirped in Danny's sash and he extracted a smartphone from within its folds. "It's Stark," he said. "I'll take this in the bedroom."

They watched Danny leave and then glanced at each other briefly before looking elsewhere. Mere hours ago they had been back to back, fighting for their lives and enjoying it. Now they couldn't string either side of a dialogue together and each passing awkward moment was riddled with intense discomfort. Neither of them would ever have thought that they would be in this situation, least of all in it after having overcome so much together in a single night.

"Does you mom…talk about me?"

Victor shook his head. "Maybe, like, once a year."

Luke nodded, disappointed. "Did she ever say _why_ she doesn't talk about me?"

"That would count as talking about you."

"Right. Right."

After a long pregnant moment, Victor straightened up, saying, "Look, I should get going. Thanks for…you know, keeping me alive tonight and everything."

"We made a good team, kid."

"Yeah! I mean, yeah. We do. Did. We did make a good team tonight." Victor moved to the door. "You know, I thought you would be taller."

Luke raised an eyebrow and leaned forward from where he sat on the couch. "S'cuse me?"

"I dunno. Just thought you'd be this huge dude, you know?" He smirked. "I guess the news cameras add a few inches."

"Is that right?" Luke returned the smirk, which was a mirror image of Victor's. "Look, kid. I know this wasn't the easiest thing in the world for you. Coming here, dealing with me…what I mean is that you've got a strong character. Your mom must be really proud of the man you're becoming."

"She says she is."

"I know it. And I'd like…I'd like if maybe I could come by sometime. Just to check in. See for myself the man you're turning into."

Luke felt like he had laid all of his cards out on the poker table and stood up, waiting to see if his rival player could beat his hand or not. Would he fold? Would he raise over his bid? He felt like the world was holding its collective breath and that the rest of his entire life hinged on what was said next.

Victor opened the door without a word and Luke felt his stomach drop out from under him. The teen took a step into the hall before pausing and turning halfway around. Victor said, "Friday nights we have spaghetti."

"I love spaghetti."

Victor nodded and Luke wasn't sure, but it seemed like his eyes were just a little larger. "Good. We eat at six."

He closed the door and Luke heard his footsteps move down the hall, growing more and more silent with each rhythmic beat. "See you soon," Luke muttered.

Danny stepped back into the living room and looked around. "Victor leave?" he asked. When Luke nodded he asked, "You okay?"

"I think I will be. Hell of a night, you know?"

"That I do. Well, that was Stark that called. He finally went through the legal hoops and has an offer for us ready."

"Okay, hit me. How much control do we have to give him if he buys the Heroes For Hire brand?"

"Actually, he's not interested in funding a new team or backing us to continue H4H at all."

Luke sat up. "Wait, what? I don't get it. After we cleaned up his mess in Madripor I thought he told you he wanted to talk about getting us up and running again."

"Initially, that's what he was considering. But after looking at the legal aspects of financing what amounts to a mercenary operation he decided he didn't want to take on the liability."

"Told you."

Danny smiled. "Yes, you're much smarter than me. But he does have an offer for us."

"An offer to do what? Bodyguard? What the hell else would we even be qualified to do?"

"Teach."

Luke sat back into the couch and crossed his arms, a look of irritation on his face. "C'mon, Danny. Be serious."

Danny made his way to the fridge to extract two bottle of bear, slinging one over to his friend. "I am serious, and so is Stark. It seems that the Avengers have been interested in starting up a training program for new superheroes for quite some time; an initiative that's meant to not only keep the next generation from killing themselves, but also offer a recruitment pool to bolster their membership."

"Like an Avengers academy?"

Danny cracked open his bottle and pointed the tip at Luke. "That's it exactly. And guess who he wants as his first instructors?"

Luke took a long pull from his own bottle, savoring the bitter liquid as it glided down his throat. He had never thought of himself as a teacher, but then again, before tonight he had never thought of himself as a father either. He had to admit that their experience could prove invaluable to untrained heroes that would otherwise be a danger to not only themselves, but the public in general.

"So, what, I'd be Professor Cage or something?"

Danny laughed. "Something like that. We'd have a lot of control over the curriculum and training regimen. We'd be heavily involved in recruiting the students, too." Danny let his gaze linger obviously on the closed door to the outer hallway. "Know anyone that might be interested in signing up?"

Luke took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He supposed that he already had a topic of conversation ready to go for this Friday.

# # # # # # # # # #

 _ **NEXT:**_ _What's next for Luke and Danny? Well, that's up for debate. My intention was to end my run on the title with this last issue, but slipping the boys into a whole new arena is mighty appealing to me! What would Power Man & Iron Fist be like as hero-instructors? Would Victor join up and take on a name of his own – and what would that name be? Who else would be part of the first class of new heroes? Who are the other instructors?_

 _-D. Golightly_

 _May 2017_


	9. The New Class: Part One

**Power Man & Iron Fist #9**

" **The New Class: Part One"**

"You'll have to be faster than that!"

A beam of red radiation, condensed to the point of intense heat, sliced through a concrete slab that had been secured to the ground. The beam trailed along an apparent path of destruction, as if predestined to cut down anything that stood upright in the small arena. Its source: a powerful magnifying lens designed by Tony Stark himself. Its intent: to whip trainees into shape.

Five teenagers flipped, whirled, somersaulted, and bobbed through the obstacle course housed within a fifty-square yard gymnasium. They had been recruited one after another as the next generation of heroes; some were more experienced than others, but they all currently had one thing in common.

"Y'all going to get one hell of a sunburn if you keep moving like a bunch of sloths!" Luke Cage shouted down at them.

The beam, operated by Luke's friend and partner in heroics, Danny Rand, was harmless against organics. Mostly. While it could cut through cement and other building materials, the laser-guided beam couldn't do anything else but heat up flesh to the point where it would sting a little. It had been designed to cut away rubble from a fallen building without harming anyone trapped beneath, and donated to several search and rescue teams in the NYC area thanks to Stark Solutions. It had also proven a unique training method.

"Is it wrong that I'm enjoying this?" Danny asked as he targeted another teen hero and pulled the trigger.

"Don't expect any apples on your desk after today," Luke shot back at his friend before calling down to the field. "Let's move, people! Time is running out!"

Together Luke and Danny had overcome enormous threats to the city, the world, and even the galaxy. As the hero formerly known as Power Man, Luke had personally gone through a renaissance to make himself a new man. These days he just answered to Cage. Danny, otherwise known as the living weapon called Iron Fist, had gained a corporate empire, lost it, rebuilt himself anew, and done everything in between. Throughout their tribulations they had learned one critical aspect of their shared success: together they were a team to be reckoned with.

To the five students swearing under their collective breath at the moment, however, they were sadistic jerks.

Earlier in the year, Tony Stark had made an offer that sounded simple enough at the time. Using their years of experience, they would help train the next generation of heroes. Not only would guidance from experienced heroes like Cage and Iron Fist provide badly needed structure and oversight to the fledgling teens, but if successful, the program could also be used as a recruitment pool for Avengers' operations. When the potential of eventually getting an Avengers ID card was brought up, each of the first five heroes identified leapt at the offer.

Supplied with a training facility a few blocks north of Avengers Mansion, Cage and Iron Fist had moved in and prepared their first class of heroes for the worst. Four floors and two subbasements, complete with living facilities and various training rooms, was where they now called home. Dubbed The Quadrangle, or just The Quad, this was where they had run drills, plotted out strategic scenarios, and even launched patrols. Today, however, was the students' first taste at getting thrown into the proverbial fire.

Their goal was to get to the other side of the arena within one of the most expansive training areas in The Quad before time ran out, and ring the bell that was suspended thirty feet in the air. Given that three out of the five of them could fly, it seemed like an easy task. As soon as the air horn had blown, though, the automated defense systems had kicked in and the radiation had started flying.

As Iron Fist scored another hit on one of the students, Cage couldn't help but chuckle. "I thought Victor would have figured the trick to this one out by now," he said.

"You're biased," Iron Fist replied as he targeted another student.

# # # # # # # # # #

Across the training arena, Victor Alvarez, the Afro-Dominican teen with the ability to absorb someone's chi and convert it to physical strength, swore under his breath as the red beam washed over his forearm again. Cornered between two concrete slabs, the newly revealed son of Luke Cage tried to work out a plan of action. He could see the bell. He just couldn't get to it without being targeted by either Iron Fist or one of the automated beams.

"Kevin!" Victor shouted as he peered over the top of the slab. "Where you at?"

Victor could make out the signature blonde locks of his classmate, Kevin Masterson, from behind a concrete sphere placed around twenty feet to his left. The bulky teenager, who was nothing but bone and muscle when he had his magical hammer in hand, peeked out and looked just as agitated as the rest of them. Given that Kevin was easily the strongest of their group, seeing him disheveled wasn't exactly motivating.

"I'm here!" Kevin said as he ducked back just in time to avoid getting a face full of radiation. "Crap! What do we do?"

If Kevin, in his newly acquired ulterior guise as the Asgard-empowered Thunderstrike, was anything like his father, then he had the power to pulverize the majority of the training room. However, the hammer had recently been handed down to him and he would be the first to admit that he was barely in control of his strength, speed, and summoning powers. It was his primary reason for accepting Iron Fist and Cage's offer.

His orange tunic barely contained the bulging muscles of his chest, and his long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. In his right hand he tightly gripped the weapon for which he was named, electricity bristling down the hilt and up his forearm.

"Can't you just fly over the beams?" Victor responded.

Kevin shook his head. "I don't have a lot of control yet and I can't avoid getting hit several times as soon as I take off. Where are the others?"

As if in answer to his query, another teenage boy in a white and blue uniform was struck down by a pair of targeting beams. He smashed down right between Victor and Kevin, tossing head over heels until he crashed until another slab. His feet were splayed out in front of him like he had been trying to get to his feet, but his upper body hadn't gotten the message from his brain to sit up yet. When he finally did, his head bobbed around like was feeling woozy.

"I can't believe we volunteered for this," he muttered. "I could have stayed in high school if I wanted to get the crap kicked out of me."

"Greg!" Victor called out. "You okay?"

Greg Ellis, otherwise known as Gravity, gave a half-hearted thumbs-up and a smile before being blasted in the chest by another beam of radiation, this one guided by Iron Fist himself. Victor and Kevin both cringed at the smoking form of Gravity, who up until now, had been the most energetic of their class.

Having grown up in rural Wisconsin, Gravity had a strong sense of morality to back his impressive power set. Able to manipulate the natural gravitational forces that connected all things, Gravity had the potential to be one of the most powerful hero in the world. After a few failed attempts to strike out on his own as a costumed hero, he had gratefully accepted the offer to come and learn how to live up to his full potential.

Before either Victor or Kevin could react further, their attention was stolen away by a loud whooping cheer, followed by several rapid fire _klat! klat! klat!_ sounds. Victor turned just enough to see another of their classmates tumble out from behind a concrete structure, coming up to one knee, and unleashing a volley of bullets through the arena from his pair of six-shooters.

Victor tracked his aim and saw one of the lenses from an automated defense gun crack and shatter, effectively shutting it down. He and Kevin cheered their thanks, pumping their fists in unison as Michael Marshal, the newly minted Gunhawk, smiled and holstered his twin guns.

Garbed in a black vest, jeans, and black wide-brimmed hat, Gunhawk smirked and tipped his hat toward his compatriots. As the newest of their ilk, Marshal had nearly declined the offer to come and train under Iron Fist and Cage's tutelage. He had reluctantly been on the front page of the Daily Bugle after singlehandedly thwarting the Looter, who had been rampaging through his neighborhood. He told them that it was mostly just dumb luck that he had clobbered the clearly drunk villain, but when he told them who his uncles were and how he had acquired his weapons and sense of chivalry, they had spent an entire afternoon convincing him otherwise.

"All in a day's work," he boasted with a wink.

"A regular sharpshooter," Victor quipped as he finally felt confident enough to come out from behind his slab. "Think you can—HEY!"

Gunhawk's eyes went wide as he fixed on what Victor had grown excited about. Despite the arena feeling like a warzone, it was relatively safe…or so he thought, until a grenade rolled precisely between the four young men.

Gravity was up on his feet instantly. He extended his right arm and opened up a gravity well directly beneath the grenade, kicking it straight up in the air and hopefully pushing its blast radius away from them.

"I got it!" Thunderstrike yelled. The blonde youth bent his knees slightly and then, with minimal effort, leapt the twenty feet up to bring himself level with the hovering grenade. He cocked back his arms like a batter ready to face down a knuckle ball and then swung the uru mallet hard enough to shatter steel.

Gunhawk, Victor, and Gravity felt the searing burn of the red radiation pour over them as the grenade, apparently rigged to act like the beams that had been tracking them during the session as opposed to a standard shrapnel device, detonated on impact with the hammer. Thunderstrike took the worst of the blast, and was knocked back down to the ground with a resounding _thud!_

"No fair!" Gravity hollered, but Iron Fist and Cage only smiled and shook their heads. "You didn't say anything about grenades!"

Gunhawk swung around and crouched behind the same slab that Victor was seeking cover with again. Gravity took up a similar position a few feet from them and he looked distraught. They weren't getting anywhere with this exercise. In fact, none of them had even come close to ringing the bell yet.

 _WHOOSH!_

Except for Karima, of course.

The fifth and final inductee into the class of new heroes, Karima Shapandar, rocketed by overhead, deftly avoiding the beams by twisting through the air like a fighter jet. Propelled by anti-gravity nodes that protruded from her ankles, Karima was more akin to a tank than a human being. While she detested her code name, Omega Sentinel, she had to admit that it was fairly appropriate for her power set.

Merged with Sentinel technology, Karima was not only a technopath, but she also had advanced technology incorporated directly into her physiology. Not quite a cyborg, Karima was possibly the next phase of human evolution. She was by far the best flyer in their group and had been making yet another run at ringing the bell by herself while her classmates unwittingly acted as decoy targets. It would be a great plan, except for two small problems.

First, she hadn't shared her plan with anyone.

And second, she wasn't as great a flyer as she thought.

As she bobbed down a few feet to avoid getting cut down by a sweeping beam, she barrel-rolled to her left and arched her back, avoiding getting struck by another perpendicular beam. Her agility was on par for the exercise, but she couldn't slow down efficiently. She reached out with her hand, nearly within reach of the bell…only to miss it by inches and slam shoulder-first into the far wall.

The four boys cringed as they saw their teammate slide down the wall and try to shake the cobwebs loose. Thunderstrike stood up just in time to see Iron Fist target her and he launched his hammer at the cannon. His aim was slightly off, however, and while he nudged the base enough to throw off Iron Fist's shot, it still blasted Omega Sentinel off the ledge and down to the floor of the arena.

The hammer returned to Thunderstrike's outstretched hand and he said, "I really wish she would stop leaving us behind to eat her dust during these things."

"Yeah, she has no sense of… _teamwork_! That's it! Duh!" Victor smacked himself in the forehead and crossed his eyes momentarily. Gravity, Thunderstrike, and Gunhawk all twisted to look at him. "Luke and Danny are always going on about teamwork, right? Well, they're picking us off one by one. It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Yes," Gravity said. "We should bribe them."

"No!" Victor cracked his neck and knuckles, feeling a little adrenaline get back into his system now that he felt like he had his feet grounded again. "We need to work together. C'mon, this is like superhero 101 type stuff."

Thunderstrike kneeled down beside them, bracing his muscular frame against his hammer. "What's the plan, fearless leader?" he asked.

Victor's eyes went wide. "Me?"

Gunhawk withdrew his twin revolvers as smooth as silk, flipping them once each before pulling both hammers back. He said, "Seems to me like you stepped up to the plate first, Vic. What do you want us to do?"

Victor chewed his bottom lip for a moment and stood on his toes just enough to get a good look at Karima. She had pulled herself together and was flying through the air again, coming back their way. "Okay," he said. "Get her attention so we can bring her on board. Let's see if a little misdirection can get us closer to ringing that bell and ending this."

# # # # # # # # # #

Cage watched Omega Sentinel narrowly avoid being struck by Thunderstrike's wayward hammer as she finally dropped from the air and took a ground approach. He stole a quick glance at the suspended bell, which so far had remained silent.

"Think we'll be here past lunch?" he asked.

Iron Fist tilted his head back and forth a few times, as if weighing the answer before saying it aloud. "Probably," he responded.

Cage readied another grenade and tossed it down below near Gunhawk, who looked like he was about to have an accident when he saw it roll his way. The modern cowboy threw himself behind a barrier just in time. As he poked his head out and quickly scooped up his dropped black hat, Cage saw an expression of pure rage on his face.

He knew that these kids were novices, but this was getting a little silly. So far the only one that had shown some sense was the Masterson kid, who had tried to take out Iron Fist's turret a few minutes ago after Karima had gone down. They were spending so much time avoiding getting hit and just getting to the bell that they were all taking the exercise at face value. It showed a lack of an ability to reason under fire.

It made him feel like they needed to get the kids back in the classroom instead of putting them through exercises like this one, which in turn made him want to just throw his hands up and call it a day. At first Stark's offer had seemed like a great idea, but now that he was actually acting like a mentor, he wasn't so sure. He could teach someone how to put down one of the Masters of Evil or rescue a kitten from a tree, but tactics? Not so much. While he was no slouch, he was far from a trained educator.

Omega Sentinel rounded the back of a barrier beneath him and he was about to toss a grenade right on top of her, but Gravity darted around the other side and he paused. It looked like they were finally working together.

"They have their two best flyers grounded," Cage commented. "Looks like they're trying to flank us."

"That's progress," Iron Fist said as he pulled the trigger on his turret several more times. "I've got Gunhawk, Thunderstrike, and Victor pinned. Maybe they'll—whoa! Incoming!"

Several of the cement barriers in the far corner of the arena opposite where the boys had congregated suddenly exploded, showering a twenty foot radius with rubble. Several chunks made it all the way to the base of the tower where Iron Fist and Cage were standing. A cloud of dust plumed upward and after a moment they saw a golden hammer race back to where Thunderstrike was crouched.

"A distraction?" Cage inquired, but Iron Fist didn't have time to reply.

Both Gravity and Omega Sentinel burst straight upward from the base of the tower, popping up directly in front of Cage and Iron Fist. They were too close for either Cage to hit them with a grenade without being inside the blast zone or for Iron Fist to twist his turret to target them.

Gravity pointed his left hand at Cage and quickly pulled it back again, using his powers to rip the grenade belt from Cage's hands. Had he been prepared for the surprise attack he could have held onto it for dear life, but he was caught with his guard down and it went soaring across the arena, now useless.

Likewise, Omega Sentinel dropped into a crouch directly beneath the turret's nozzle and placed her hand on its barrel. A wire zipped out of her wrist and tapped into its circuitry. Before Iron Fist could even swizzle the turret away from her all power had been shut off. It was now nothing more than a giant, oblong paperweight.

"Not bad," Iron Fist said. "You still have the automated defenses, though."

"Oh," Karima said with a smile. "We know."

"We have them covered," Gravity added, and he pointed back down to the floor. "Or at least, _they_ do."

Several more bursts of shattering concrete erupted from the floor as Thunderstrike began to simply pulverize his way through the arena. The dust clouds being kicked up made them difficult targets for the automated beams to track and after three of the outburst the slashes of red radiation stopped completely.

The newfound solitude didn't stop Gunhawk, now able to freely stand his ground and pick his shots, from firing back. Bullets struck the lenses and one after another the defenses were obliterated. Within moments the arena had been turned into a safe zone thanks to their coordinated efforts.

From the center of the room, a form was spat out that arched through the air directly at the bell. Victor, using his increased strength to catapult himself across the room, screamed dramatically as he headed directly for the bell. He landed beside it and struck it with his fist as he did so, sending a resounding gong! throughout the arena.

"Yes!" Gravity hollered. He twisted around in circles as he levitated upward, pumping his fists. "Suck it! We are so awesome! We did it! In your face!"

Karima smirked, as did Thunderstrike and Gunhawk as they approached from the ground, the latter of which even sardonically tipping his hat. Iron Fist and Cage looked to Victor, who was trying hard to look casual as he leaned back against the bell, which wasn't supporting his weight at all since it was hung on a rope and not fixed in place. He kept sliding off it, but was determined to strike a pose regardless.

"How about it?" Omega Sentinel finally said. "Did we pass?"

"Did we pass?" Gravity chimed in. "Of course! Didn't you hear the sweat sound of that bell? I wish I could make it my ringtone."

"I give a B+," Iron Fist said.

"It's a C for me," Cage added.

Gravity's mouth dropped open in shock. He gently lowered down and ripped the hood and yellow goggles off of his face. "What?" he exclaimed. "Are you serious right now? Didn't you see him leap through the air like a Sayan? And, and, and how I totally yanked away your bombs? Or how Kevin just smashed apart everything that was standing still? Or Mike's crack shot shooting? Or Karima's ability to not hog the spotlight?"

"Yeah, we saw," Cage replied. "We saw all of the unnecessary destruction you caused. How could we miss it?"

Gunhawk slipped over the ladder that led from the ground to their level just as Thunderstrike and Victor leapt up or across, respectively. Omega Sentinel crossed her arms and started to mutter as Gravity just hovered with a flabbergasted look on his face.

"Look," Iron Fist said. "We applaud the teamwork and the strategy. Using your own unique strengths to counter the opposing forces is what exactly how a team needs to operate. You showed initiative, creativity, and resilience. These are all things that will save lives in the field. That's why you're getting passing grades today."

"But…but… _teamwork_!" Gravity blurted out.

"Y'all aren't making a lick of sense," Gunhawk said. "You wanted the bell rung and we rang the damn bell."

"I don't get it," Thunderstrike said. "What did we do wrong?"

"What was the point of the exercise?" Cage asked.

"They told me is was to pick a leader, form a plan, and work like a team to accomplish a goal," Omega Sentinel replied. "I should have known better."

Cage shook his head. "No. What did we tell you the goal was? What did we literally tell you the exercise was today?"

Victor said, "To ring the bell. Wait…oh, c'mon! You don't mean to literally just ring the stupid thing?"

Iron Fist nodded slowly and looked at each of them in turn. "All Gunhawk had to do was shoot it once, or Thunderstrike could have thrown his hammer at it, or Gravity could hit it with a gravity well to make it ring when it fell over, or Omega Sentinel could have locked onto it with any number of her weapons, or Victor could have just thrown a rock at it like a baseball."

"You've got to be kidding me," Thunderstrike said. He threw his hands up and ground his teeth. "Why wouldn't we—"

"Make an assumption and leap straight to the most difficult solution?" Cage interrupted. "Any single one of you could have completed this exercise within seconds of it starting. Sometimes the best way to handle a situation is to just follow the instructions and get it done. As heroes, you don't always have to blow stuff up and show off your abilities. Sometimes you just do the job that needs done, like ringing the damn bell instead of showboating around like a bunch of circus performers."

"That's not fair," Karima shot back.

"Neither is anything you're going to come up against out in the real world," Iron Fist responded. "We're not trying to teach you to be fair. We're trying to teach you how to do what's right without killing anyone." He gestured down at the decimated arena, where the dust had yet to fully settle. "The bad guys absolutely won't play fair when it comes to this stuff, so neither should you. Just do it responsibly."

"Cheating responsibly," Gunhawk said. He smirked. "I like it. Alrighty…well! It's about time for some breakfast, don't you think?"

"Sure," Cage replied. "Right after you clean up this mess."

The blaring silence from the five students spoke volumes, but Cage and Iron Fist leapt down from the tower and starting strolling for the exit anyway. Cage couldn't help himself from turning around just before leaving and saying, "What's the matter? With a little _teamwork_ you'll have this place swept up in no time!"

# # # # # # # # # #

"Come in," Cage said.

The door to his private quarters slid open to reveal Victor standing with arms crossed and a mean mug plastered on his face. The Quadrangle had ample living space, with each room outfitted with a bedroom and living room. Despite the plush accommodations, right about now Cage felt very confined.

"What's up, Vic?" he asked.

"That was a load of crap this morning," Victor said as he stepped into the living quarters. "We finally got over ourselves and worked like a single unit, you know? And then you tell us we were wrong anyway? That ain't right."

"I stand by what Danny and I did, son" he shot back. He stepped over to a recliner and fell onto the soft cushions. "Hopefully the lesson will stick."

Victor shook his head and made a noise of irritation. "It's not just the whole teamwork thing. We got ourselves straightened out so we could win, right? We knew that, or _thought_ we knew, that we had to work together. And you know who they listened to? Who they picked for the team leader?"

"You."

"Yeah, me. Not that it matters now."

"You feel like they won't respect you or something?"

"Well, why would they? I got it wrong."

Luke took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He and Victor had grown close over the last few months, ever since he had learned that Victor was his biological son, born back before he had gone to prison. Being a father figure, if Victor even looked at him that way, was uncharted territory for him and he always felt like conversations like these took him by surprise. He was really just guessing at the right thing to say most of the time.

"They allowed you to lead them," Cage finally said. "Yeah, maybe Danny and I messed with your heads a little today, but that won't change the fact that when put into a difficult situation, they all went with your plan. Own it and they'll do that again."

"You think I could be a leader?" Victor looked him directly in the eyes, which would have made Cage uncomfortable a month ago, but now he found that he welcomed to intimacy. "You think they would want me to be one?"

"I think you've got it takes. 'Course, having a code name might actually help things along. It would show you were one of them. They all chose one for themselves right away. You've been holding out. It creates a line between you, like you think you aren't one of them."

"Code name," Victor said. "Yeah. I've been thinking about that."

Cage raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. "Oh, yeah? What you got in mind?"

"I was thinking…I mean, if it's okay with you…about going by Power Man."

It was a good thing that Luke was already sitting, because he felt for sure like his knees were wobbling. He tightened his lips because he was worried that his mouth would drop open if he didn't. The air was pregnant with his pause, and when he realized he hadn't said anything for a long time, he rushed to get some words between them.

"Yeah!" Luke said. "I mean, of course! It's yours. The name, I mean. Haven't used it in years."

"Cool," Victor said as he stood up. He went to the door and stopped halfway through, turning back to look at his seated father. "Thanks."

The door slid shut, leaving Cage alone again in his room to just stare at the blank, closed door. "Power Man," he whispered, and then he smiled.

# # # # # # # # # #

"His plan won't work."

A man wearing the face of Luke Cage stood on the Empire State Building's observation deck, looking down at a city that was both familiar and alien to him. He knew the names of the streets, the landmarks, and even where to get a decent slice of pizza. The geographical aspects of New York were well known to him, but it was populated with foreigners. None of these people, despite what they looked like, were _his_ people.

"I agree," a man wearing the face of Danny Rand replied. "Forget the American's offer. We can control this city ourselves. He's destined to fail, we can both see that. There's no reason we should allow ourselves to be dragged down with him."

Like this other Luke, he looked down at the city and felt nothing but disgust. However, he also saw an opportunity. Had he come to this world with the denizens of his recently acquired Dangerous Dojo he could have swept over the city like a force of nature, taking it as his prize alone. But he didn't have his kung fu army. He had no one except the one who called himself The Warden, a man he had fought against just as much as he had alongside in recent days.

"I'll admit that working together on that contract from the Spider had potential, Dragon Fist," The Warden said. "Too bad the Goblin got away."

"Yes," Dragon Fist said. "Too bad. But now here we all, brought here by the Great American and left to fend for ourselves. Like you, I think we can uncover opportunities here, but as both of us have come without our resources, it makes sense to join forces."

The Warden's jail had been filled with subjects of incredible power that would do his bidding in exchange for favors, or even release. Without them, however, just as Dragon Fist pointed out, he was crippled. Finally, he said, "You know _they_ will come for us right?"

"You mean the Luke Cage and Danny Rand of this world? Of course. But only if we let them." He pointed to a recently constructed building just a few blocks from the noticeable Avengers Mansion. "Their new home. Why wait for them to come to us, when we can go to them?"

The Warden smirked and smacked his hands together. The noise, empowered by his augmented strength, made all of the other tourists on the observation deck jump in surprise. He rubbed his hands together and felt himself getting eager for their first move. Despite being in this backwards world, despite being ripped out of his comfortable lifestyle, maybe there was a way to make a little cash and gain even more respect here.

"When do we make our move?" The Warden asked.


	10. The New Class: Part Two

**Power Man & Iron Fist #10**

" **The New Class: Part Two"**

 _ **NEW YORK CITY**_

 _The Financial District_

"This has to be a joke," Power Man said.

Victor Alvarez, the newly christened Power Man, having received approval from his biological father to use the name, Luke Cage, stood in rapt attention on the edge of a building. It was bitter cold and the people dozens of stories below him were getting ready to do their holiday shopping. New York City encompassed him, with all of its splendors, but he was solely fixed on the costumed man standing on the roof across from his own building.

Beside Power Man stood Danny Rand, the living weapon known as Iron Fist, who replied, "It's no joke, Victor. The guy is serious trouble."

"But…he's so lame!"

Across the street Power Man and Iron Fist watched the costumed villain named Skeleton Ki, garbed in a gaudy purple cape and skeleton motif bodysuit like the ones so many people wear at Halloween, stalk across the rooftop. He cautiously scanned the immediate area, noting security cameras and movement sensors, but seemed completely oblivious to the pair of heroes watching him from a nearby building.

From the pouch nestled in the small of his back, hidden from view by his cape until he reached into it, Skeleton Ki extracted a device about the size and shape of a radar gun. He tapped a few buttons, pointed it at the cameras and sensors, and pulled the trigger. Smoke puffed out from the security measures as their electronics were fried by the EMP pulse.

"Alisher Sham is a master thief," Iron Fist explained. "His powers allow him to open any lock. Yeah, he looks silly, but he's tried to steal from my company before. I've always caught him, but because of his particular powers, he's really difficult to keep incarcerated."

"Okay, so why is he here?"

"When the Rand Corporation was dismantled a few years ago, a lot of their patents went here," Danny said, nodding at the other building. "Carmichael Ventures. I made nice with their board, and they heard that someone hired Skeleton Ki to grab my company's old patents. Everything's connected."

"We're working for the guys that took control of your old company?"

"Part of it, yeah."

"That's a little messed up, Danny. Don't you hold a grudge against them? They profited from your company's failure."

"Buddha teaches us to rise above our anger through forgiveness and compassion," Iron Fist replied. "But I'm still charging them double our normal rate. They're paying it because of my history with this guy."

Skeleton Ki reached the rooftop entrance, placed his hand on the keypad, and the door sprung open. Even the most sophisticated locks and the most cutting edge security technology were useless in comparison to his unique power. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him, thinking that he had entered without being spotted.

"That's breaking and entering, right?" Power Man asked. "We can do more than just watch now?"

Iron Fist nodded. "Go for it."

"Wait, what? You mean I get to apprehend this fool on my own?" Victor cracked his knuckles. "Yeah! That's what I'm talking about. The kid gloves are finally off!"

Iron Fist smirked. "Don't underestimate Skeleton Ki, Victor. You and the others in the Avengers' NEXT program have come a long way in the last few months, but don't get cocky. This is your first solo mission, and while I'll be monitoring your progress from here, you won't have any fail safes to fall back on today. Take this seriously. Remember your training."

"You got it!" Power Man exclaimed as he slapped a hand on Iron Fist's shoulder. "Do you mind?"

Iron Fist shook his head, expecting what was coming next. Victor's ability to borrow chi from another person and convert it to physical strength made him a force to be reckoned with. He could take down an entire group of assailants just by touching them, and then be powered up enough to go a few rounds with Luke Cage himself. But the power wasn't inherently his; he had to take it from someone.

Power Man's hand glowed briefly as he absorbed just a fraction of Iron Fist's incredibly resilient chi, his very life force. Usually, Power Man would only get a moderate boost in power when absorbing a single chi, but when that single chi happened to be honed to astounding levels through the trials of K'un Lun, it was like absorbing straight adrenaline.

Even through his sunglasses, Victor's pupils flashed with energy. "Thanks, teach!" he said, just before leaping across the street to the other rooftop. With his enhanced strength it was like hopping across a path. He landed casually on the other building, strolled up to the door, cautiously checked it, and then entered after Skeleton Ki, determined to make Iron Fist proud.

No sooner had the door closed then Iron Fist suddenly grew cautious – his years of experience had tempered his physical awareness to perfection. The cold December air might have slowed anyone else down, but his senses were too acute to be numbed. While there was no forewarning, no sound to foretell the approach, he was fully aware that he was not alone on the roof.

He spun just in time to see a crushing axe kick slice down at his skull. He pivoted just enough to slap at the ankle with his right palm, then seamlessly turn with his momentum to slash his left hand, his fingers now extended, into a cutting chop at his opponent's midsection.

The man had seen it coming, however, and deflected the blow with his own perpendicular palm strike. He countered with an oblique kick, followed by a series of crane beak strikes that could have shattered Iron Fist's ribs if they were to land.

But Iron Fist backpedaled, not allowing the deadly strikes to hit. His thoughts whirled just as his body struggled to keep up with the sudden attack. The man, who seemed just as adept at martial arts as himself, had come from nowhere and must have been waiting for Power Man to get out of sight.

So furious were the exchange of blows that it wasn't until Iron Fist deflected a nearly fatal stunning fist strike with his crossed forearms that he recognized the style. He somersaulted back on the rooftop to put some space between him and his opponent, looking behind the flying arms and legs for the first time since the fight had begun. He saw a man the same height as himself, the same age, and the same build. He even wore a dark mask tied behind his head, just like his own.

In fact, Iron Fist realized, he was looking at _himself_.

"Who are you?" Iron Fist demanded as he fell into a defensive stance.

"I'm you, Danny Rand," the man said, and he spoke with Iron Fist's own voice. "Well, not exactly you. A better you. Just as good, but willing to perform the techniques that you never would."

As impossible as it was, Iron Fist believed him. The style was a take on the same martial arts forms taught to him by Lei Kung, the Thunderer, but it was more fierce, more deadly. This fighter had plunged all of his force into his strikes. Where the Thunderer had taught him to incapacitate, this fighter had instead learned to kill.

They began to circle one another. "Some kind of clone?" Iron Fist asked.

"No, not a clone," the man responded. "You might say I'm your reflection, only I don't hide behind heroics. I take what I want instead of peddling myself out like some kind of righteous mercenary."

"Where did you come from?"

"Does it really matter? Nothing outside of this very rooftop is of consequence right now. We live in the moment, Daniel. You and I are not slaves to the mendacity of human life. You and I…we are _immortal weapons_."

Iron Fist leapt forward, taking the offensive. He charged with a flying roundhouse kick, strong enough to shatter brick, but the man ducked underneath, landing an uppercut beneath Iron Fist's chin. Iron Fist tilted his head back at the last moment, bending his knees to come inside the man's reach and deliver a tiger punch straight into his abdomen. He followed through with a swift upward knee, but the man blocked it with both palms, pushing down against Iron Fist's patella, and sending him off balance.

"What do you want?" Iron Fist demanded as he stepped back.

"Your world is ripe," the man said. "Unsuspecting. The Great American has proven that already. But I won't conform to his plans. I have plans for you, Danny Rand."

"You may look like me," Danny Rand replied, "but you'll never _be_ me. Not so long as I possess the iron fist!"

Iron Fist summoned his chi, quickly building his internal power and focusing it in his clenched fist like he had so many times before. His enclosed hand glowed brilliantly, brimming with the power that he had mastered after plunging his hands into the molten heart of the dragon Shou-Lao, the Undying. There was no other technique like it on Earth.

…until now.

As Iron Fist charged forward to deliver his signature strike, the man similarly summoned his own chi, forming his own fist like unto a thing of iron. He struck out, and their fists connected, sending a pulse of unbridled force rupturing into the air.

They would have been equally matched, except that Iron Fist's chi didn't burn quite as brightly as his opponent's. His power, while still strong, had been depleted slightly when Power Man had borrowed a small portion of his chi. Because of that small token, Iron Fist was no longer the man's equal, and he fell to his knees, his wrist shattered.

Cringing in unexpected pain, he looked up to see his opponent stand over him, his palm cocked back and ready to fly. "I gained the same power as you when I murdered Shou-Lao on my world and took his heart for my own," the man said. "From that day on I was called the Dragon Fist, and today I have proven your superior."

His hand ripped downward, and Iron Fist's world went black.

Moments later, the building access door across the street burst open, and the limp form of Skeleton Ki was tossed onto the cold cement. Power Man stepped out, brushing imaginary dust off of his shoulder.

"Yeah! That's how it's done, son!" he shouted at the unconscious villain. "That little trick with the cape wasn't half bad, I'll give it to you. You may look ridiculous, but Danny was right; you're no push-over."

He pulled a pair of zip-ties from his belt and yanked Skeleton Ki's wrists behind his back. The villain moaned. "Oh, c'mon now," Power Man said. "I didn't hurt you…too bad anyway. Okay. Bad guy secured, cops have been called, and I texted the Avengers' switchboard to let them know this one is wrapped up. That way Karnak or somebody won't come running when the police band picks this up. Now I just update the client and watch the po-po haul your goofy ass away!"

Power Man smirked at his captured quarry, taking a moment to let his pride swell just a little. He shouted, "So, what you think, Iron Fist? I get a passing grade today?"

When no one replied, he looked across the street to a vacant rooftop. There was just a soft flurry beginning to descend on the waiting city.

"Danny? Where you at?"

# # # # #

 _ **The Quadrangle**_

 _Avengers NEXT Program Training Facility_

The retina scanner confirmed Luke Cage's identity, granting him access to the Quad's inner sanctum: a communications room with equipment all tied into the Avengers mainframe. The training facility was used to prepare the next generation of heroes at the behest of Tony Stark, the invincible Iron Man, and was overseen by Iron Fist and Cage. It was their job to get the teen heroes into line to make sure they didn't kill anyone, while simultaneously providing a potential recruitment pool for other Avengers teams.

It was a closely guarded room. The retina scanner and palm print scanner were only two levels of redundant security. Anyone that wanted into this room also had to have a pass key and a password that changed daily. The high levels of security were necessary, given that the Avengers not only had detailed data on heroes and villains around the world, but had also been given access to various government databases. In the right hands, a communications room like this one could cause a lot of chaos.

While the physical security measures were confident that this man was Luke Cage, they were still wrong. He was _a_ Luke Cage, but not the same Luke Cage that had woken up in this building that very morning. He didn't have to bother trying to fool the scanners, since he had the same eyes and hands as the other Cage. The pass key and daily password, however, had taken someone on the inside.

While he wasn't feeling the Great American's subtle long term plan, this Cage could still string him along long enough to get what he wanted. The American's plan was going to succeed, there was no doubt about that. He was already two phases deep. But it would take upwards of a year before they saw any real fruit from their labor, and this Cage wasn't sitting around on this backwards planet that long without establishing himself. He wanted to get some gratification now.

The American had dopplegangers all over the place, worming their way into this world. He had heads of state, foreign dignitaries, and even people in the damn Peace Corps. The sheep wouldn't even know the wool was over their eyes until it was too late. He even had the X-Men compromised. And the Avengers? That had been his very first priority.

So, this Cage played along, playing his part to replace the fool Luke. He gained the American's trust and promised to abide by his C.O.D.E. His person on the current Avengers roster believed the ruse, too, and had given this Cage a pass key and updated him on today's password; all four security measures were accounted for. The Quad was officially his, and now that he was dug into this Avengers facility, there wasn't a damn thing that anyone could do about it.

He sat down at the closest terminal and accessed organized crime records. The NYPD liaised with the FBI for an integrated system, which was an open book to the Avengers. On his world he was called The Warden, and he ran a supermax prison full of willing superhumans that would do just about anything to either get their sentences reduced or even erased. It made him one of the most powerful bosses in the country.

But not here. Here, Luke Cage was a washed up hero that struggled to make rent. All that power was being wasted on him. He could pulverize anyone that tried to front, but no. Not that Cage. Why would he want to take over the identity of a worthless do-gooder? The American could go ahead with his plan, but it wasn't for this Cage. This Cage needed to get his powerbase up and running again.

And what better way than to take over the local mob? He flipped through the organized crime files, quickly scanning through recently filed reports from undercover officers. He had a little chuckle at some of the names of the big bosses. Guys like Silvermane and Hammerhead on his world were feds. It was almost laughable to think about those badge-wearing clowns being feared in this city.

But then one name stuck out at him. "Jigsaw," he said. "That creep runs a local crew? Sweet Christmas…"

It made sense, in a way. The Jigsaw from his world was a war torn vigilante, desperate to sew back the pieces of his life that had been ripped away from him by the mob. He could see Jigsaw being corrupt here. The guy was as crazy as they come.

According to the FBI, as recently as last week Jigsaw had made a power move on the West Side of town, killing off a rival and absorbing his gang. While he had no doubt that Jigsaw would whip them into line right away, there had to be some descent in the ranks. Their loyalty wouldn't yet been formed, which made them prime candidates for a promotion to this Cage's soon-to-be crew.

All he had to do was kill Jigsaw. And thanks to the other Cage, he wouldn't even have to go out hunting for people to do his dirty work for him. The place was crawling with kid heroes looking to make a name for themselves.

Intelligence in hand, this Cage shut down the terminal and exited the communications room. He no sooner sealed the door behind him than he turned and bumped right into a teenage girl.

"Oh!" she said. "Sorry, Mr. Cage. Uh, I mean, Luke. Sorry, Mr. Luke. I didn't see you there."

This Cage looked down at the Indian girl, who went by Omega Sentinel, although he had heard she detested the name. She popped earbuds out and looked up at him, her eyes wide. She was a full foot shorter than him, but he had read her file and knew what she was capable of. Her stature was nothing compared to the cybernetic Sentinel technology she had been merged with. She could lay him out flat and he wouldn't even know what hit him before the smoke cleared.

"No worries," he said, brushing past her. "Get the others into the training room. I got a mission for y'all."

"Um…okay," Karima Shapandar replied. "Kevin and Greg are upstate, though."

"What? Get them back here."

"But, you're the one that sent them, remember?" she said with a quizzical look on her face. "At this morning's training session, right after Danny…I mean, Mr. Rand and Victor left for their priority mission? You said that Stingray had requested help to recover a Kree ship or something. They're our two heavyweights, so you sent them."

Damn. That Cage must have sent them away before he had taken care of him this morning. Kevin Masterson, aka Thunderstrike, was an Asgardian god or something. He was the next best thing to having Thor on your payroll. And that Greg kid, who went by Gravity, was in a class all his own. Since Dragon Fist was supposed to take care of the Alvarez kid, that left Omega Sentinel and the cowboy. No matter. He would make due.

"Right, sorry," this Cage replied. "Slipped my mind. Grab Gunhawk and meet me in the training room."

"Okay. Like, now?"

"Yes, now. Move your sweet ass."

He shook his head as he stomped away, turning a corner and leaving the girl behind. These naïve kids were going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. After they outlived their usefulness he would have to take care of them. Although that Shapandar girl wasn't bad to look at. Maybe he would have some fun with her first.

Of course, that meant no more slip-ups. The American's C.O.D.E., if he had stuck to it, would have made sure that little mistakes like not knowing about that Cage sending two of the students away wouldn't happen. He would have to slow his approach down, just a bit. Just enough to make sure that no one discovered who he really was.

That meant he had to keep that Cage alive longer, which wasn't ideal. It was a liability. He was begging to be discovered if he allowed the Luke Cage of this world to keep breathing. Especially since he was being kept so nearby.

This Cage took the elevator down to the Quad's second subbasement, which was largely storage for the generators and servers. No one would come down here, especially since he had taken the liberty of changing the access codes on the elevator.

In the back corner, behind the largest of the servers, was the other Luke Cage, barely conscious and strapped to a chair by ribbons of carbon fiber security bonds. He had found the bonds in the training equipment room and instantly realized their usefulness. Keeping this Cage in the chair wouldn't be a problem, it was getting him in it that had taken some finesse.

This Cage slapped the other. "Wake up," he said. "I got a few more questions for you."

That Cage groaned. His eyes blinked open. He was feeling woozy and had trouble focusing his vision.

Subduing a man with invulnerable skin, who could also bench press a truck without breaking a sweat, would be challenging to say the least. But The Warden knew his own limitations. He knew that taking on Luke Cage in a bareknuckle brawl would be stupid, and would only draw attention.

He knew that there were special irradiated bullets that could probably penetrate his skin, or any number of energy weapons that could incapacitate him. Hell, he even thought about electrifying the sucker. But ultimately, The Warden knew that often times the simplest method is the best one.

For all his strength, rumbling prowess, and stubbornness, even the mighty Luke Cage could be poisoned.

The poison he had administered to that Cage just after their morning training session, a simple vaporized concoction pumped into his air vent, probably wouldn't kill him. But it would keep him disoriented and weak enough to be dragged down to the subbasement and strapped down.

"S…screw you," that Cage managed to mutter.

And in reply, The Warden clobbered him with a right haymaker.

"Ain't no one going to come save you," The Warden said. "Now. Let's get down to business, shall we?"

 _ **NEXT:**_ _Iron Fist is missing, but the fledgling heroes can't go on the hunt while The Warden has them doing his dirty work for him! It's superheroes versus gangsters while the real Luke Cage's life hangs in the balance._


	11. The New Class: Part Three

**Power Man & Iron Fist #11**

" **The New Class: Part Three"**

For a moment the soft winter breeze stirred his mind and he thought he was still in New York City. But then the scent of a long familiar mist ascended his nostrils and his eyes snapped open. There was no mistaking it; he was in the mountain terrain that he had played in as a child.

The ceylon ironwood's soft fragrance was what alerted him. It was a tropical tree that could grow at high altitudes, with yellow-centered, white flowers and petals that would fall like raindrops. He had climbed their branches so many times and when he grew old enough even began using them in his exercises. The Thunderer himself would instruct him on proper methods of balance despite the heights, encouraging him to test his limits and leap from branch to branch.

But ironwood didn't grow in the city, not naturally, and the sweet smell would be lost among the hot dog carts and the engine emissions. It was a scent that Danny Rand had missed since leaving K'un Lun.

He tried to stand, but found that he was strapped and bound, tied to the roots of one of the very ironwoods. It was cold, cold enough to make him shiver, but he wasn't in danger of frost bite. The snow wouldn't start covering the mountain for another hundred feet or so, but their nipping winds would crawl over the mountainside.

"I remember the first time I climbed one of these trees," someone said. Danny tried to turn, but the bonds were too tight. He recognized the voice, strangely enough, as his own. "Lei Kung tied my daily food allowance to one of the branches in the tallest ironwood. He told me that if I wanted to eat that I needed to retrieve it for myself."

Dragon Fist stepped out from behind the tree that Danny was tied to, looking like a mirror image of Danny, only more deadly. "It wasn't until I reached the basket," Dragon Fist continued, "that I realized it was just another of his cruel tricks. The basket was empty. That day I learned to depend only on myself and not the reassurance of another. I would have to collect my own food if I was to survive K'un Lun."

"You've led a dark and twisted version of my life," Danny Rand, the living weapon known as the Iron Fist, replied. "You're from another world. A backwards world."

"Something like that," Dragon Fist said as he stood before Iron Fist.

"So, you're going to what, kill me and take my place?"

"That's what I agreed to do. But as I'm sure like so many others in my place right now on your world, I have my own agenda. Hence why I brought you here."

"To K'un Lun." The fog had begun to lift from Danny's vision and he was beginning to make out more familiar landmarks. There was no doubt in his mind that his doppleganger had somehow transported him to the legendary mystic city. "To what end? Why bring me back to the city that raised me to be their immortal champion? Some kind of challenge? A test for yourself to prove that you're the greatest fighter?"

Dragon Fist chuckled. "You think I brought you here for sport? No, but that is amusing. To test my mettle against you would be intriguing, but I've killed so many martial artists already. How like you to think I would propel you through some kind of dark tournament. Were you a challenger in my Dangerous Dojo…perhaps."

"Dangerous Dojo?"

"My own private kingdom," Dragon Fist explained. "You'll see it for yourself in due time. I've brought you here for quite a different reason, Iron Fist. You're going to help me kill Lei Kung."

"The Thunderer?" Iron Fist blurted out. "Never. What makes you think I would ever do something like that, especially here, in my sacred home?"

Dragon Fist leaned down, bringing his masked face within inches of Iron Fist. "And what makes you think this is _your_ K'un Lun?"

# # # # #

 **New York City**

 _Brooklyn_

"Are we sure this is the right thing to do?" Gunhawk asked.

The modern cowboy, complete with sunglasses and six-shooters, triple checked that his guns were loaded. Since acquiring the weapons from his uncles, the famous Gunhawks of legend, and becoming the all-new, all-different hero under the care of Luke Cage and Danny Rand, he seldom let the guns out of his sight. They had become a part of him, part of his chapter in a decades-long legacy.

Standing in a back alley alongside a Sentinel-fueled teenage girl, waiting for a signal from his new mentor, he was starting to have second thoughts about this hero thing. He had been assured that they were going to make a real difference in the world and help the little people that couldn't help themselves. Taking down a supposed mob boss, who as far as Gunhawk knew hadn't actually done anything yet, didn't seem like it was in their job description.

"Of course we're sure," Karima Shapandar, the walking weapon known as Omega Sentinel, replied. "This is Luke Cage we're talking about here. If he says we need to take this creep out, then we take this creep out."

"Shouldn't we wait for Victor, or Greg, or Kevin?" Gunhawk asked, referring to Power Man, Gravity, and Thunderstrike, respectively. Together they formed the inaugural class of the Avengers' NEXT program to train new heroes.

"Is it because I'm a girl?"

Gunhawk did a double take. "Wait, what?"

"A girl. I'm a girl. Are you trying to pull some kind of macho cowboy crap? Like, you need the others because I'm a defenseless little girl who can't pull her own?"

He slipped his revolvers into their holsters and raised his palms up defensively. "Now, hold on a second, I didn't say—"

"This is so typical," Karima said. "Carol warned me about you and your boy's club. You do know that I helped Brother Nature avert a major crisis, right? And she was all like, 'Don't let them make you feel inferior just because you're a woman.' And then she shot Karnak this look, like she was about to rip his head off. Unbelievable."

"Carol…" Gunhawk was more than a little flabbergasted as he tried to keep up with her. "Carol Danvers. You mean Warbird? When did you talk to Warbird? I haven't met _any_ of the Avengers yet!"

Before she could respond, a thick _crunch!_ reverberated down the alley. Then another, and another. It was coming from around the front of the building, like something was punching its way in. Inside the supposedly abandoned warehouse they were waiting behind, chaos suddenly exploded from within. They glanced at each other briefly, silently tabling their squabbling. Gunhawk flicked out his twin revolvers and cocked the hammers back with his thumbs, while Omega Sentinel similarly activated her own weapons.

Her body had been merged with Sentinel technology, making her a formidable one-woman army. Both of her forearms slid apart along the radials, and barrels appeared, brimming with red energy. "That's the signal!" she shouted, and then blasted the sealed door to pieces.

Activating her heel jets, Omega Sentinel rocketed into the warehouse, going high. Gunhawk tucked and rolled through the now open doorway, coming in low to the ground. He spotted a stack of crates nearby and headed for cover, unsure of what he would find inside. He heard lasers, or repulsors, or whatever Omega Sentinel was dishing out firing overhead. That meant she was laying down cover fire for him as agreed.

He peaked out from behind the crates and saw Luke Cage completely ransacking the place. He had punched in the reinforced front door just like he had said he would, and now he was using one of the dislodged steel doors like a flyswatter, knocking around bad guys left and right. They were charging him, completely unaware that Gunhawk and Omega Sentinel had come in the rear entrance to pick them off one by one. Cage's distraction had worked.

Omega Sentinel had picked a position thirty feet off the ground, hovering just above some of the girders that criss-crossed halfway toward the ceiling. Red beams of energy ripped through the air, splashing against the backs of confused gangsters that were caught between her and a rambunctious Cage.

With the majority of Jigsaw's gang that had been holed up in the warehouse focused on Cage, and being picked off by Karima, that left Gunhawk free to scout around a bit. He cautiously moved from behind the stack to a set of metal stairs that led to an elevated office. The door was locked, but a quick bash of the knob with his revolver's handle solved that problem. He slipped inside with ease.

A few maps of the city were tacked up on the wall behind an old desk that had most likely been left behind by the previous owner. Trash was scattered around the corners of the small office. If Jigsaw had meant for this place to be his new mob headquarters, like Cage had said the federal database had told him, then Jigsaw must have literally just moved in.

Gunhawk stepped over to the map of Brooklyn to take a closer look. "Areas all marked off. What could that mean?"

The door was kicked back open and a new voice said, "Rival territories. Soon to be _my_ territories."

Gunhawk's first instinct was to whirl around and let some lead fly. But thanks to Cage and Iron Fist's training, he knew better than that now. Taking quick action could save lives, but when you were cornered it was often better to get a grip on the situation first. Instead, he merely shifted his weight on his hips and glanced over his shoulder; an unthreatening stance that still gave him a clear view of who was speaking, while also casually angling his right hand over one of his holsters.

His peripheral vision showed him a well-dressed man that looked like he could have stepped right out of a magazine, if not for the fact that his face had once been slashed to pieces and sewn back together. The newly minted mob boss, Jigsaw, had shown himself.

"Ha!" Jigsaw squawked. "Where did they dig you up? Let me guess your name – Midnight Cowboy?"

"The name's Gunhawk, friend. And I aim to please."

"Oh, that's rich. Very rich." Jigsaw leveled a machine pistol at the teenager. "You and your friends down there are going to cost me a lot of dough wrecking this place. I just took over this crew. I came up here to get my rocket launcher to deal with them, but I think a hostage will do even better."

"Hostage?" Gunhawk pivoted just a fraction of a degree toward Jigsaw. "You got the wrong man for that job, mister. I ain't nobody's hostage."

Jigsaw took a step closer, raising the machine pistol to eye level. "You got some kind of death wish, kid?" He eyed the gun belt. "Oh, I get it. You're some kind of quick draw artist, right? Well, let me tell you something. This piece will pump out three hundred rounds per minute. That's a full five rounds the instant I squeeze the trigger, and at this range there is no way you're faster than that."

"Like I said," Gunhawk replied. "I aim to please."

There was a beat held between them. A silent moment when neither knew what the other would do. Then thunder. It only took a fraction of a second, the span of a lightning strike. Gunhawk ripped one of his revolvers out of its holster and allowed his natural talent to guide his aim, not even bothering to raise the gun higher than necessary to extract it from the holster.

Jigsaw yelled as a bullet tore into his kneecap, shattering the small bone. The machine pistol went off, firing a few dozen rounds into the ceiling to no effect. He collapsed halfway, managing to point his weapon at Gunhawk again, but another clap of thunder roared and the weapon was shoved out of his grip.

Gunhawk had been training for this very moment, the moment when his life depended on his hands being faster than the other man's. In the movies he would have spun his guns around on his index fingers and said something corny, maybe even winked at the bad guy now writhing in pain. Instead he kept his gun trained on the man, ready to act if necessary.

He didn't have to wait long. The man himself, Luke Cage, their de facto leader and trainer, stomped up the metal stairs and burst into the small office. He had a grin on his face as soon as he saw Jigsaw cradling his wrist and bleeding from his knee.

Cage looked up at Gunhawk. "Nice work, Tex," he said. "You didn't even need to put one between his eyes."

Gunhawk blinked and then holstered his gun. "I would never do something like that."

Cage smirked. "Right, right." He turned his attention back to the gangster. "Christmas, Jigsaw! I thought you would put up more of a fight than this."

"Bite me," Jigsaw said, and then he spat on Cage.

For a brief second, anger flashed on Cage's face. Gunhawk thought that the devil himself has slipped inside his mentor, but then as quick as it ad came, it was gone, replaced by a Luke Cage smile. He knew that Cage had a sordid past, filled with prison and being on the wrong side of the law. The man deserved a little anger; like his trainers had taught him, what really mattered was how you handled that anger.

"Go help the others clean up downstairs," Cage said. "I'll take out the trash."

Gunhawk hesitated a moment, but he had already put his trust in this man, so he did as he was told. He stepped over the small pool of blood in front of Jigsaw and exited.

No sooner had he left than Cage turned back to Jigsaw and said, "Now. Tell me everything."

"Lawyer," Jigsaw replied.

Cage cracked his knuckles. "Ain't no lawyers here, son. I want to know what your plans for this crew were, who your suppliers are for whatever it was you were going to peddle, who your buyers are, who your rivals were, and anything else you think might have been important."

"Ha! That's rich coming from you, Cage. What is this, some kind of new NYPD internship? I don't see no badge on your or your kiddies down there. You got no authority here! When I do get my lawyer, and I _will_ , dirtbag, you and your friends are going to have the biggest lawsuit in history brought down on you. I mean, you come in here, bust up my boys, who are law-abiding citizens, by the way, and why? You got no warrant, no jurisdiction, no nothing."

Cage leaned down and picked Jigsaw up with one hand like he was just picking up some refuse someone had dropped on the floor by mistake. "Let's get one thing straight," Cage said as he wrapped his free hand around Jigsaw's wrist. "You're not going to see a lawyer. Now. Or ever."

He squeezed, placing just a miniscule amount of his strength into the effort, and as a result the bones in Jigsaw's wrist shattered. To his credit, likely from his hard years on the street and working his way through the syndicates, Jigsaw only winced without uttering a cry of pain.

"Not going to squeal?" Cage asked. "That's good. It will cut down on the questions from the other later on. So…let's try this again, shall we? Because I didn't come here to bust up your crew. I came here to take it over."

# # # # #

 _ **The Quadrangle**_

 _Avengers NEXT Program Training Facility_

Power Man stepped into the lounge that rested between the training room and the kitchenette, confused and concerned. After dropping off Skeleton Ki at the local precinct,* he had hustled back to the Quad hoping to find Danny Rand, the Iron Fist, waiting and ready with an explanation for why he had abandoned him mid-mission.

 _* [Last ish]_

Instead, he stumbled onto a morose Gravity, Thunderstrike, and Omega Sentinel staring at an obviously upset Gunhawk. All four of the fledgling heroes turned to face Power Man as he entered the room, and Victor felt like he was interrupting something serious. The room held an air of discomfort, like when someone walks in on a brewing argument.

"I thought I heard someone come back here," Power Man said as he stepped between Gunhawk and the others. They had distanced themselves from him by a few feet. Usually the friends were sitting and gossiping when in the lounge. "Look, obviously I'm interrupting, and I'd love to hear about whatever _this_ is, but I'm looking for Danny."

"Haven't seen him," Thunderstrike said as he ran his hands over his mallet almost absentmindedly. The weapon was like an extension on himself, and he was rarely without it.

"Wasn't he with you?" Gravity asked. "Luke sent me and Kevin upstate to help Stingray lift a Kree vessel out of a river. He thinks it crash-landed there 50 years ago! Pretty cool, right? That means that the Kree probably came to Earth way before anyone else things they did. I wonder if—"

"Greg," Karima cut in. "You're rambling again." She turned back to Power Man. "We haven't seen him. Look, Victor…what's your take on Luke over the last couple of days?"

"What? I don't know. I mean, he's been a little distant, I guess. Why?"

"Because," Gunhawk responded, "I think something's up with him."

"Like what?" Power Man asked, his arms crossing over his chest. He glanced back at the others. "What's going on?"

"Gunny here thinks that Luke has a brain bug or something," Gravity said.

"Not a brain bug," Gunhawk shot back. "I think maybe someone is messing with his head. He's acting…volatile."

"Like I said. Brain bug. Like in that starship movie."

"You're saying that a man who can create a diamond by smashing two lumps of coal together with his bare hands is acting volatile," Thunderstrike responded. "You know that sounds a little crazy, right?"

"What Kevin means," Omega Sentinel chimed in with a glare at Thunderstrike, "is that the man's job is being nothing but volatile. I mean, did you see him tear into Jigsaw's gangsters?"

"Gangsters?" Power Man asked.

"They got to trash real life gangsters while we were lifting alien cruisers," Gravity said. "Did I sound jealous there? I'm actually not. Kree!"

"Yeah, I know that his job means he gets hands on," Gunhawk said. "But he's just been acting off the last few days. To your point, his job also means he comes into contact with all sorts of weird stuff. In a world where starships from another planet are dredged up, and teen superheroes are called in to rattle some local thugs, is it really that odd that Luke might have been compromised? Hell, you all read the same files I did. There are any number of folks that could have messed with his head. The Purple Man. Ringmaster. Mesmero. So, y'all tell me…can you look me in the eye and tell me that within the last week that you haven't done a double-take at our noble leader at least once?"

The quintet stared at each other in silence for a moment, unsure of what exactly to do next. The teenagers were still novices, barely out of the training room. Power Man had just done is first solo take down that morning. This was uncharted territory, and they had to admit that there was more doubt in their minds than certainty.

However, Gunhawk's words cut them, deeper than they might even admit. All of them were thinking the same thing: even if there was a shred of a possibility that Luke Cage was being controlled, manipulated, or taken advantage of by a villain that they had to consider it as a possibility.

"So, what do we do?" Gravity finally asked.

"We confront him," Thunderstrike said, standing his massive frame up all the straighter. "Why not just go right to him and work this out? Is he's compromised, he'll show his hand. If he's not, then we brush it off."

"And we just take his word for it then?" Karima asked. "C'mon. No, we need an expert. Like, a good guy telepath. Like Jean Grey."

"Do you know Jean Grey?" Gravity asked.

"I…met her once. At a party at the X Mansion."

Gravity rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure she's waiting by the phone. Maybe if we all just think really hard in her general direction she'll pick up the vibe."

"No, she's right," Gunhawk said. "We need help here. We aren't qualified for this. We need to get the Avengers in on this. Just to be sure."

"Sounds good, guys," Power Man said, growing frustrated. "Look, whatever is going on with Luke, I doubt that we need the friggin' Avengers. They're the guys you call in when Terminus shows up, not who you call because your teacher is in a bad mood lately. I'm his son, I'll figure it out, okay? Now, can we please get back to my thing?"

"Sure," Gravity said. "What was your thing again?"

"Danny! Where the hell is Danny? We went to take down this thief and he sends me in to get the guy, and when I come out, successfully I might add, he was gone. And I can't find him anywhere."

"Did you check his locator?" Karima asked. Power Man stared blankly at Omega Sentinel. She sighed and said, "Right. Of course not. I'm so glad that you're paying attention during class, Vic."

Omega Sentinel turned to a console on the wall and began tapping in commands. The big screen TV mounted over the fire place switched from a muted football game to the main access screen for the Quad's systems. She flipped through several other screens before landing on an option labeled "Locations."

"After Danny went missing last year and Luke ended up trudging through the Everglades to find him*," Karima said as she pulled up more options on the screen, "They decided that they should each have interdimensional beacons surgically added under their skin. That way the next time they were separated Luke wouldn't have to ruin his boots, or whatever."

 _* [Check the first Power Man & Iron Fist arc!]_

"They're nice boots," Gravity said.

Danny's Iron Fist tattoo flashed on the screen. It then shrunk down and was placed on a map of the city, but after a sweep it wasn't situated anywhere specific. Instead it just hovered over several areas, as if it couldn't make up its mind on where to land.

"Increasing the range," Karima said.

The city map collapsed into one covering the entire state of New York. Then the Eastern seaboard. Then the United States. Then the entire Earth. The dragon icon just hovered, skittering back and forth across the globe, never landing anywhere specific.

"Um…okay. Now I'm not sure what to do."

"You said this was interdimensional, right?" Power Man asked. "Probably because Danny was abducted by John Aman and in some alternate realm for a bit. Plus, that Everglades place was the Nexus of All-Realities, so I'm sure they accounted for those kinds of situations again." The group stared at him. "What? Maybe I do pay attention in class…sometimes…"

"Okay, so…got it!" Karima said as she fiddled with the settings. The icon faded and the globe shifted to a series of parallel planes, one of which was highlighted red. "Other planes of existence? And he's in that one."

"Which one?" Gravity asked.

"The red one, stupid," Karima shot back.

"Duh. I meant, which dimension is that? It just has a number. How are we supposed to know where he actually is, how he got there, and how we get there?"

Karima tapped through a few more options, but shook her head. "I have no idea. Maybe we need to call Tony Stark or Reed Richards or someone." She set the locator back to its default setting, which was a schematic of the Quadrangle itself. "We're getting in over our heads."

"Wait," Gunhawk said. "Look."

They glanced back up at the screen and saw a broken chain symbol, indicating Luke Cage's presence, on the map of their headquarters. It flashed in one of the sublevels of the facility, and area that none of them had entered before, as it had been deemed off limits. It was mostly computer servers and other utilities anyway.

"It's Luke," Thunderstrike said. "He's downstairs doing something. Probably maintenance."

"But Luke ain't here," Gunhawk said with a slight drawl. "Remember? He wrapped up Jigsaw and went with the police to file a statement. It wasn't that long ago. He couldn't be back yet."

"So, if Luke is at One Police Plaza," Victor said, pointing up at the screen, "then who the hell is that?"

The five heroes traded looks before rushing out of the lounge in a flurry of arms and legs. Their youthful vigor propelled them down the corridor and into the elevator, with Gravity elbowing Thunderstrike unnecessarily. "You need to deflate your muscles," Greg muttered as the doors slid shut and they descended to the correct floor.

When the doors opened again, they stepped into a dimly lit room that was several degrees colder than the rest of the upper floors. They saw their own breath puffing out as they walked deeper into the sublevel.

"Servers function more efficiently at lower temperatures," Omega Sentinel explained. "Now where would…oh, my god!"

Around a corner they saw a terrible tableau: Luke Cage strapped to a chair, beaten, bloodied, and barely alive. Power Man, Gravity, and Omega Sentinel raced to his side, while Gunhawk and Thunderstrike each brandished their respective weapons to take up defensive positions. Luke was wheezing and barely seemed aware of their arrival.

"Luke!" Power Man exclaimed. "Can you hear me? What happened? Who did this?"

"He's barely conscious," Karima said as she started to unstrap him. "What the hell is he bound with? I can't get these loose! They look like some kind of titanium belts."

"Here, let me," Gravity said. He placed a hand over one of the buckles and concentrated, creating a tiny gravity well where the straps connected. An enormous amount of pressure pulsed at the connection, finally snapping the straps free of one another. "Wow! That actually kind of hurt."

Power Man lifted Luke out of the chair carefully and the original hired hero slumped onto him. "A little help here?" Victor demanded, and both Gravity and Omega Sentinel each took an arm to help support him.

Luke moaned and his eyes fluttered open. He seemed barely alive, but his lips started moving. Victor leaned in close to try and hear what he was saying.

"What'd he say?" Thunderstrike asked.

Power Man's eyes went wide. "He said 'imposter.'"

Gunhawk cocked back the hammers of his twin revolvers. "Still think calling the Avengers is a bad idea?" he said.

 _TO BE CONTINUED!_


	12. The New Class: Part Four

**Power Man & Iron Fist #12**

" **The New Class: Part Four"**

 _ **The Quadrangle**_

 _Avengers NEXT Program Training Facility_

"So…now what do we do?"

Everyone turned to look at Gravity. The teenager, whose power had the potential to rival most of the Avengers' roster, past and present included, had a worried expression on his face. Karima, a.k.a. Omega Sentinel, traded glances with several of the others in the room, and when an obvious answer didn't present itself, went back to tending to the battered Luke Cage.

"We call the Avengers," Gunhawk said. The fingers on his right hand danced over one of pistol grips. "This is getting too series for us to handle alone."

"I don't know," Thunderstrike said. He gripped his mallet tightly, as if afraid it would get away from him. "I mean, who do we trust? There's an imposter Luke running around and he's no joke. Look at what he did to the real Luke."

Karima had wiped away most of the blood from Luke's bruised face, which was shocking just by itself, because none of them thought that Luke Cage, the legendary hero of Harlem, could even _be_ bruised. He looked tired and unable to focus. When they had found him tied up with titanium bands in the basement of their training center,* they realized the real gravity of their situation.

 _* [Last ish.]_

The whirring of the facility's servers and other maintenance machinery around them filled the void for a few heartbeats as they all glanced at each other.

"But we can't do nothing," Gravity said. "God only knows what that other Cage did with Jigsaw. Or what he's doing now. Or what he's going to do when he gets back."

"But how do we know there aren't more evil twins?" Thunderstrike countered. "We could call the Avengers for help, and oh, hi, look who answered the phone: ANOTHER EVIL TWIN."

"We don't know this is a conspiracy," Gunhawk said. "But we do know that we need help. I say we chance it."

"We need Iron Fist," Gravity said.

"He's in another dimension," Thunderstrike responded. "Again."

"Luke, can you hear me?" Omega Sentinel asked cautiously.

In reply, Luke grunted. His eyes opened and he tried to sit up, but Karima placed a gentle hand on his chest. He blinked a few times and cracked his neck. "Yeah," he finally said. His words were thick and heavy on his lips. "M'here. Give me a second."

"I think we need to get him to a hospital," Karima said, looking back at the rest. "His pulse is weak. I don't have anything to even really clean out all of these cuts." Then she said under her breath as she looked back at Cage, "How do you even cut steel-hard skin?"

"No hospitals," Victor Alvarez, a.k.a. the recently christened Power Man, said. He had remained silent for several minutes, both due to the shock of seeing his father in this condition, and because he was scared. He didn't want to admit it, but he was terrified of what the entire scene implied.

Vic flexed his fingers several times and continued. "No Avengers. No one else. It's us, and that's it. Danny's gone. We don't know who we can trust. We just know that there's someone out there that did this to Luke. We're in the best position to stop him. If we waste time looking for help that we don't know we'll find, this other Luke will either bolt of slam the hammer down on us to shut us up. We need to move while he still thinks we trust him."

Luke mumbled something and Karima leaned in closer. "What did you say?" she asked.

The original hired hero sat up, blinked his eyes several more times, and then with obvious effort, stood up. He swayed for a second, but he locked eyes with Power Man and his footing became solid.

"I said," Luke Cage answered, "that's my boy. Let's go get this asshole before he can do anymore damage."

* * *

 _ **K'un Lun**_

 _The mirrorverse_

"Why would I help you murder my mentor?" Iron Fist asked.

"Because he's not _your_ mentor," Dragon Fist replied. "He was mine. This isn't your dimension. This isn't your K'un Lun. With many of the players removed from my world and taken to yours by the Great American, I'm virtually unopposed here. Except for Lei Kung."

Danny struggled against his bonds. They were too tight for him to simple break, and the tree he was tied to was too firmly rooted. From the mountainside, he could see the distinct walls of the mystic city that he had been raised in. He recognized familiar hillside paths that he had explored as a child. Even the air smelled the same here. Only here wasn't here. If he understood, here was now there. He had been abducted, taken to the home realm of this mirror imitation of himself.*

 _* [You're caught up on past issues, right?]_

"The Great American?" Iron Fist asked.

Dragon Fist waved his hand and took a few steps behind Iron Fist, circling him casually as he spoke. "I think you call him Admiral America or something on your world. I've worked for him on occasional, even allowing him use of my Dangerous Dojo once. But he's left my world, gone to yours, and recruited many of the worst individuals to accompany him. In short, there's a power vacuum here now. But the Thunderer will undoubtedly move on me, too, knowing these same facts. And since he would have the strength of K'un Lun behind him, I need to strike first."

"I won't do it."

Dragon Fist tsked as he circled back in front of Iron Fist again. He leaned forward with his hands clasped behind his back, closer to Danny. "What if I described the horrible acts that this Lei Kung has performed? The Thunderer of this world is a tyrannical mastermind. He has subjugated the local villages, only to liberate them so that he can conquer them all over again. I have watched firsthand as he ruthlessly cut down scores of men and forced their children to watch. I even saw him capture and kill several of this world's heroes merely for sport."

"I won't kill in cold blood," Iron Fist spat back at him. "You're wasting your breath."

"Yes, I thought you would say something like that," Dragon Fist replied, standing up straight again. "It's the opposite of what I would do anyway. We are so much the same, and yet so different."

"So, if you know this is fruitless, why bother at all?"

"Oh, I can still coerce you."

Dragon Fist snapped his fingers, and from the shadows several figures melted into view. Garbed in black with green sashes draped across one shoulder, four warriors simply blinked into existence before them. Two of them stepped forward and bowed before Dragon Fist, while the other two remained standing.

"Denizens of my Dangerous Dojo," Dragon Fist said. "Loyal to a fault. They would die for he who commands the Dojo."

With a nod from their master, the two standing ninja reached back into the shadows and pulled a bound woman out between them, holding her tightly by each arm. She had been beaten and bruised, and blood dribbled down her cheeks. One eye was swollen shut. A chunk of her black hair was missing.

Iron Fist gasped and struggled more fiercely, but to no avail. "Misty!" he shouted.

The woman cringed as Dragon Fist approached. "Misty Knight," he said. "You would do anything for her, correct? Your exploits are well documented on your world. I'll make this simple for you: help me kill the Thunderer, or I'll make you watch as I remove Misty's beating heart."

Iron Fist ground his teeth, trying to redouble his efforts in pulling free of his bindings, but his strength was ebbing.

Dragon Fist grabbed Misty by the jaw. She squealed as he squeezed, and something inside Danny broke.

"Make your decision, _Iron Fist_."

Danny's chi flared, roaring to life, feeding off of his own life energy. The sudden burst of adrenaline rocketed through his bloodstream, fueling his determination. His right hand became engulfed in flame, tearing through his bonds just enough to finally give him the slack he'd been craving. He lunged forward and the fight was on.

He took down the kneeling ninjas first, striking the first with a quick palm strike to the chin, and the second with a powerhouse knee to the throat. Dragon Fist reacted instantly, shoving Misty Knight back as he engaged Iron Fist, spinning into his range with a back-heel kick, smiling all the while.

"Yes!" Dragon Fist roared. "FIGHT ME! POWER UP YOUR CHI!"

Iron Fist blocked the first kick, but was caught off guard by the second. Dragon Fist's movement were so fast that Danny barely had time to even register that he was being hit. The kick to his midsection took his breath away, and two jabs to his torso pushed him back.

Still weakened from their earlier fight, and his muscles being sore from the restraints, Iron Fist fell back quickly into a defensive posture. Dragon Fist looked maddened, even infuriated, pressing forward with left and right strikes that would pulverize cinderblock. Iron Fist parried the moves as best he could, but one or two broke through his defenses, numbing his right shoulder and his leg thigh.

Dragon Fist gripped Iron Fist by both wrists, hauling him off of his feet. The energy spilling off of their twin emblazoned hands, smoldering with the power of their chi, clashed. Their energies mixed and Iron Fist felt an entirely new sensation at the core of his spirit.

"Yes," Dragon Fist hissed. "I needed your chi to tap into your very life essence. You've dug deep to empower your technique! It's strong enough to overcome the conflicting energies between our worlds. Here, my chi is strengthened by vengeance. Your chi is bolstered by righteousness."

Iron Fist felt his chi being ripped away from him, siphoned off through Dragon Fist's grip. His vision was growing blurry.

"You're a fool!" Dragon Fist spat, and behind him Iron Fist could see Misty coming closer, smirking. "I knew I could never convince you to join me. Why would I ever place trust in you? No, all I really need is your chi…added to mind!"

Misty wrapped an arm around Dragon Fist's waist, coming close enough now for Iron Fist to see that she was relishing their conflict. "You just needed the right motivation to make it flair," she said.

"You're…not…my Misty," Iron Fist managed to mutter.

Dragon Fist laughed. "Of course not!" he said. "But she's right. You just needed that little extra nudge to get your chi up to the next level. Now you're strong enough for me to extract your very life force, leaving you an empty shell. With your power added to mine, Lei Kung will fall easily, as will the rest of this vacant world!"

Iron Fist felt himself weakening by the moment. He had played right into his doppleganger's hands. But hadn't Lei Kung, _his_ Lei Kung, taught him that righteous actions would always triumph over a lust for vengeance? It had been a fundamental lesson that he had learned early on. The Thunderer of this world must have taught Dragon Fist the opposite.

So, which was correct? Which philosophy would prove stronger than the other? Could he push back and break his opponent?

But that's when Iron Fist realized that it wasn't about strength, as Dragon Fist was likely taught. It was about control. It was about not just attempting to do the right thing, but believing that it was your only course of action. There was no alternative. He would defeat Dragon Fist, because it had now become an absolute.

The color of their mixed chi began to change, burning to a fiery orange, and then a nearly blinding red. Misty stepped back shielding her eyes. "What's happening?" she asked. "You said you had this! I let you beat me to get him in the right frame of mind, and now you can't even bring him down?"

"Shut up!" Dragon Fist roared, but sweat was beading on his forehead. He was struggling where he once had complete confidence. He had set Iron Fist back on his feet without realizing it.

Iron Fist straightened up, his feet now firmly planted again. He focused on his meditative training, focusing his mind. With their chi intertwined, he felt as if his very ideology was being attacked. This was now less of a physical conflict and more of a philosophical collision. He had never felt mental discord like this before. It was like his own mind was at war with itself, but the side that was prevailing was not doing so through brute tenacity, but rather honor.

He knew that Dragon Fist had not been as prepared as he thought he was. He wrongly assumed that melding their chi together would enable him to simply overpower Iron Fist. But this was not a brawl; it was a debate, and Iron Fist was winning.

"No!" Dragon Fist roared.

Their merged chi turned a brilliant, cobalt blue, and began traveling down Iron Fist's arm and into his chest. Dragon Fist's body began to cave in on itself, his cheeks sinking in, his eyes shriveling, and his muscles wasting away. When their connection finally broke, Dragon Fist was no more than a husk with a barely beating heart.

Iron Fist's eyes flashed blue and he wasn't sure if he could contain the new power at first, but as he again focused and concentrated, remembering his teachings of control and balance, the power bent to his will. The new life force became one with his own, succumbing not to a new master, but rather becoming a new part of him.

"Daniel!" Misty shouted and she rushed to the smoking and dilapidated body of Dragon Fist, cradling him. "What did you do to him? Daniel! C'mon, baby. C'mon!"

"He's gone," Iron Fist stated calmly. "I'm sorry. He didn't understand what he was trying to do, and it cost him. His deliberate thirst for conquering—"

"Shut up!" Misty screamed, and she sprang up, drawing a knife from her hip and seeking to drive it straight into Iron Fist's chest. "Kill you!"

But a black-clad arm quickly wrapped itself around Misty's elbow, yanking her back. Another arm seemingly snaked out of nowhere, striking her abdomen and dropping her to her knees. Iron Fist blinked and stepped back, surprised by sudden appearance and actions of these bodyguards, failing to understand what was happening. The same ninja that Dragon Fist had summoned were now holding the seething Misty at bay, staring at him, apparently awaiting his orders.

Dragon Fist had said, _"Denizens of my Dangerous Dojo. Loyal to a fault. They would die for he who commands the Dojo."_

Iron Fist looked at his hand, feeling the new life force that new flowed through his veins. "Take her away," Iron Fist said, and the ninja obeyed. One moment they were holding this other Misty Knight and keeping her from ripping his throat out, and the next, they had melted back into the shadows, taking her with him.

"My god…" Iron Fist muttered.

He had taken Dragon Fist's power, and apparently with it came his control over this Dangerous Dojo and the ninja as well. Undoubtedly, under Dragon Fist's leadership they were likely a deadly force bred for evil.

But he couldn't think about that now. He had to get back to his world. And with Dragon Fist's chi came his other disciplines, giving Iron Fist the knowledge he needed to get home. If there still was a home to return to. He just had to focus…

* * *

 _ **The Quadrangle**_

As soon as the Warden stepped back into the Avengers NEXT training facility, he wanted to leave. He had been put in a corner too often to not recognize the feel of the situation. It was something in the air. There was a tension, invisible, but distinct. He knew that those brats were here something, but unlike how they usually were, the facility was totally silent.

The question was: what were they doing? Were they whispering amongst themselves, plotting against him, or were they just in-fighting? Teenagers were finicky at best, and he had already targeted the Thor Junior kid to go along with his future plans. He seemed the most malleable, next to Gravity, but Gravity's optimism probably meant he couldn't be persuaded to be one of his lieutenants.

He figured that Karima would give him the biggest fight. Gunhawk seemed like the most difficult one in their group to turn, but take away his guns, and what was he? Nothing. But Karima had real power and she was stubborn, too.

This would be easier if Dragon Fist hadn't bolted. He was too obsessed with their old world. Who cared about that heap now, when they had this place that was unsuspecting and ripe for the taking?

But he couldn't get distracted. Years running his prison of mercenaries back home taught him to keep his eye on the prize, which meant take things one step at a time. With the police satisfied about his arrest of Jigsaw, and what was in their terms a "fairly brutal takedown," he had taken a few hours to get the gangster's crew in line.

Jigsaw only had a few junks of territory secured, and in his notes he was clearly obsessed with some nutcase vigilante, but the foundations were already in place. His top men had taken a little persuading, but it hadn't taken long for them to understand who the new boss in town was.

Next, he would get these kids in line, and once they were taken care of, he would no longer have a need for the other Luke Cage. Then, the city was his.

"Hey, pop," Vic said as he rounded a corner, approaching the facility's kitchenette. He walked casually, but he wasn't fooling the Warden.

The Warden's eyes narrowed, but as he watched the new Power Man dive into the fridge as only a teenager can, he decided to play along. "Sup," he replied. "Where's everyone?"

"Mmph," Power Man answered as he came back out of the fridge with a turkey leg in his mouth and three other containers of food in his arms. He kicked the fridge door shut, dropped the containers on the counter, and finished chewing his bite before saying, "Sorry. They went out. Karima's birthday is tomorrow, so they went to grab a cake or something. Where you been?"

"Giving a statement to the police about Jigsaw." The Warden cautiously stepped into the kitchenette, trying to look nonchalant as he glanced around the corner and down the corridor. "They don't like how we handled it."

"Yeah, I heard about that. They got a problem with a known murderer getting a few bruises?"

"Something like that." The Warden scratched his nose, considering his options. Then he said, "What did the others say about it?"

Power Man let out a little chuckle. "You know Greg. He was all like, 'I'm not cut out for this.' He's always so self-depreciating, but if I were him, with his power levels I would have trashed that guy quick and not let him get the upper hand."

"Get the first punch in," the Warden added.

Vic nodded enthusiastically between bites. "You know it. I don't think Gunhawk was all about the takedown, either, but he's still green."

"So are you."

"Yeah, but it's in my genes! Look, all I'm saying is, if I had been there, you and me would have cleaned that place up so fast Jigsaw wouldn't even know what was happening."

The Warden sat silently with the teen, considering the conversation. If he could get Victor on his side, the rest would follow, at least for a little while. It might not take them long to figure out the ruse, but they would definitely follow Victor in the short term until he could figure out how to handle the rest of them.

He wondered if he had a son like Vic back on his world, but dismissed the thought. That world was dead to him. Here was all that mattered now.

"Want to hit the training room?" Power Man asked. "Get a work out in before the others get back?"

The Warden pulled back out of his thoughts quickly, seeing that Vic was staring at him, waiting for an answer. After a pause, he said, "Yeah, sure. I could use a quick stretch after sitting still at that precinct for so long."

Vic smiled, gobbled down the last of the food he had extracted from the fridge, and led the Warden down the corridor to the training room.

The massive area that the students used to train to become the next group of Avengers could barely be called a room. It took up nearly three-fourths of the entire facility, comprised of moving sections of concrete and durasteel that could form any number of obstacles for them. Here they worked on teamwork, physical endurance, and field strategies.

Vic keyed in a passcode and the doors slid open, revealing that several tiers reaching from floor to ceiling throughout the gigantic room had been raised up haphazardly. It looks like an uneven series of monoliths had been resurrected and scattered throughout the space.

"You already had the place configured?" the Warden asked.

"Uh, yeah," Power Man replied. "I was headed here after lunch. I haven't tried this scenario yet."

"Okay. And what's the goal?"

"Hide and seek!" Power Man shouted over his shoulder as he powered up and took off running behind one of the pillars.

The Warden huffed. This was not his idea of a work out. Maybe the kid was still too childish to join him. If he thought something like this was going to put him through his paces, then he—

 _WHAM!_

Something akin to a miniature freight train had slammed into his stomach and he fell over, gasping for breath. He had been caught off guard, and when he looked up from where he now knelt on the floor, he saw what it was: Thunderstrike's golden mallet.

He watched it whiz back to its owner's outstretched hand, slapping into his palm like it belonged there and nowhere else. The blonde youth looked ready for a fight, his muscles tense and his eyes sharp.

"So, it's like that, huh?" the Warden muttered. "Aight. Bring it on!"

The Warden leapt up, using his enhanced strength to propel himself between the tiers directly at Thunderstrike. The kid may be strong, but he was inexperienced, so the Warden knew he could take him down quick. He would have no endurance to speak of and that sucker punch was all he was going to get.

 _BOOM!_

The Warden felt something explode against his side and he was thrust into one of the columns, smashing through it. Bits of concrete rained down on him and as he picked himself up he saw smoke clear away between where he had been and where Karima, Omega Sentinel, was standing. Twin targeting lasers coming from her forearm-mounted cannons were tracking over his chest. He didn't know what she had hit him with, but it had stung. A lot.

"Little bi—ahh!" he had started to say, before some unseen force had lifted him straight up into the air, catapulting him toward the ceiling. He slammed against it, cratering the smooth surface, and was held in place there.

The white and blue uniform of Gravity came into his peripheral vision as he strained to turn his neck. The pressure against his back was enormous and he felt like he was being pressed upside down into a junk crusher.

"Watch the language, mister!" Gravity said as he hovered beside him. "We're impressionable young people, don't you know."

"Stupid ones, too," the Warden shot back. He put most of his strength into just moving his one arm, managing to grab Gravity's neck. The field of pressure against him went slack and they both dropped to the floor, with Gravity under the Warden.

The Warden stepped off of the pulverized Gravity, who was knocked out, but breathing. "With powers like yours," the Warden said, "Why would you get so close to your opponent?"

 _PLING! PLANG!_

Two bullets fell harmless off of the Warden's forehead. He was fine, but annoyed when he spied Gunhawk, the modern cowboy, pulling the hammers on his twin revolvers back again without any sign of wavering aim. If the Warden didn't have diamond-hard skin he would have been dead to rights.

"You serious?"

"As a heart attack," Gunhawk quipped, and fired two more useless bullets at the Warden, which just plopped down at his feet.

"You kids are a joke. What, so you found Cage downstairs? Is that why the sudden turn of events?"

He saw the two tracking red dots hit his chest and dove out of the way just as Omega Sentinel fired another volley of firepower. The concrete floor was blackened where he had been standing and he turned around to shake his finger and the young woman.

"You should know better than that," the Warden said as another pair of feeble bullets bounced off of him. He turned back to Gunhawk. "And you are just pathetic. What's the point of you even being on this team anyway?"

"Didn't you know?" the cowboy said with a smirk, and he holstered his pistols. "I'm the distraction."

The Warden raised an eyebrow in curiosity just as both Thunderstrike and Power Man came out from behind the pillar beside him, each landing a haymaker on opposite sides of his jaw. The combined might of the two titans would have been enough to shatter the infrastructure of a building. The Warden was thrown back through two more pillars before hitting the back wall of the massive space, his body punched into the reinforced barrier.

Now woozy, the Warden tried to sit up in the hole his body had created. He saw Omega Sentinel and Gunhawk help Gravity up, with Power Man and Thunderstrike flanking them. The five of them, while young, were apparently up to the task of taking him on.

Fine. He would have fun mopping the floor with them. He didn't need to worry about recruiting them now, which meant their lives were forfeit. He would enjoy painting the walls of this place with their blood.

But someone moved between him and them. He looked up, his dazed eyes trying to focus, and what he saw seemed impossible. He saw himself, standing over him, also battered and bruised, but for very different reasons. It was this world's Luke Cage, the good guy, the wasted talent, the forlorn hero.

"Sweet Christmas, you make me sick," Cage said, and he drove a fist straight down into his doppleganger's face.

* * *

 _Later…_

"How are you feeling?" Cage asked.

Gravity smirked and waved his mentor off. Despite the nearly 70-foot fall, he was relatively fine. His ribs were a little battered, but otherwise he was doing okay. He sat up on the examination table in the Quadrangle's medical bay and said, "All in a day's work, right boss?"

Cage laughed. "Yeah, I suppose it is. Ain't that right, Reed?"

Reed Richards, the de facto leader of the world-renowned Fantastic Four, barely glanced at Cage. He mumbled something that sounded affirmative as he tapped at the device in his hands, which was scanning the incapacitated other Luke Cage. Realizing that this Warden might be part of something else going on, they called in Reed to assess the situation, choosing not to reach out directly the Avengers just yet. If anything, Reed could be called discreet.

"Is he always so…I don't know, like, mesmerized like that?" Vic asked in a hushed tone.

"Pretty much, yeah," Cage replied.

He stepped past Gravity, who was ushered off the table by Thunderstrike. Omega Sentinel and Gunhawk waited patiently with Power Man to see if their friend and fellow Avengers recruit needed their help. Cage approached Reed, glancing over the near perfect identical version of himself being restrained by Reed's inhibitor vest.

"Reed," Cage said after another long silence, loud enough to jerk the scientist's attention over to him. "What can you tell us?"

"The readings I'm getting match what I've been monitoring back in my lab," Reed finally said after another brief review of the data streaming on his device. "He's definitely from another dimension. I'll take him back with me to see what else I can find out. He won't be any trouble as long as I keep the vest on him. I've been linking similar readings like this all over the city. The world, really, but mostly here in New York. You were right to buzz me."

"I appreciate you coming," Cage said. "I know how busy your family can get."

Reed smiled. "I suppose you do. Better than most. Although Ben still says he wears the uniform better than you ever did."

"Uniforms aren't really my thing anyway." Cage turned back to the teens behind them. "Now we just need to find—"

Reed's device started to blare an alarm as the readings began to spike for some reason. He glanced at Cage and typed in a few commands, finally stating, "It's not him. There's a cascade of energy forming…forming right here?"

And before Cage could respond, a brilliant burst of light engulfed the room, blinding them all. It faded just as quickly, revealing a kneeling Iron Fist in the center of the room, smoke wafting off of his still shimmering body.

"Danny?" Luke blurted out as he rushed to his friend's side. He placed a hand on Iron Fist's shoulder, but he was hot to the touch and he quickly withdrew his reach.

Iron Fist took in a deep breath and stood up, seemingly fine. He looked around the room and said, "Is this a welcome home party?"

Cage smiled, but it soon evaporated. He turned to Reed. "This is the _real_ Danny, right?"

Reed scanned Iron Fist, considering the data for a moment, and was apparently satisfied. He nodded his head. "He's laced with residual extra-dimensional energy, but yes, his bio-metrics are what they should be. Well, what we would expect them to be anyway."

"Where have you been, Danny?" Cage asked.

"I'd say you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Iron Fist answered, looking over the prone form of a second Luke Cage, "but I'm guessing you were having some similar problems of your own back here."

"You don't know the half of it," Gravity muttered, and he squeezed his side to try and keep it from hurting.

"Well, I don't know how much you figured out already, but we need to talk," Iron Fist said. "I think this thing, whatever it is, is way larger then we might at first assume."

"You mean there are more of these doubles out there?" Luke asked.

"Yeah. Possibly a lot more." He looked over the incapacitated Luke Cage again, saying, "I think we're in the middle of some kind of invasion from another dimension."

* * *

 _So, some background on things that may have slipped by the readers. This series, like most of the things I post here, is part of a larger, shared universe called Marvel 2000 (my DC stories are part of DC 2000). I would post the links, but we all know they don't like that around these parts. At Marvel 2000, or M2K for short, there were two event series that relate to these dopplegangers invading. The first is Mirror Mirror, which features flipped versions of our favorite heroes, and is the universe where Dragon Fist and the Warden are from. The second is called CODE Confidential, which is still ongoing at the site, and explore more of the background of this doppleganger invasion. Go search online and check them out!_

 _AND THEN COME BACK HERE FOR…THE CIRCUS OF CRIME!_


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